


Wanderlust

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A recent tragedy sends Katniss backpacking through Europe in an attempt to escape. Bouncing from one host's house to another, she gets more than she bargains for in the form of one handsome German baker. Everlark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as part of the Everlark Drabble Challenge on tumblr (check the tag if you haven't already, so many great stories!). It was borne from the prompt "backpacking Everlark" thanks to mellarkberries, but it spiraled into a pretty hefty one-shot once I started thinking about it and formulating all these ideas based on suggestions from other tumblr users who are from or had been to Germany.
> 
> Fair warning: I have never been to Munich myself. My knowledge of Germany is limited to the four years I took of the language in high school and college. Meaning...it's crap. Luckily, I had some native German speakers, bunsandbrushes and sagittaria-sagittifolia, who offered to beta the story and fix my butchering of their language and also gave me some more insight into cultural practices. I can't even articulate the debt I owe them for their help on this. I really wanted to make this story as authentic as possible, and their editing was phenomenal! That said, if there any issues with translation, they are totally my fault due to overall ignorance.
> 
> I also owe a depth of gratitude to a few other people who filled me in on what Munich is like and inspired a number of scenes: absnow, bottledmichelle and sponsormusings, for the Glockenspiel bit ;). Thank you, ladies, you made fleshing out this story that much easier! Also covert props to my IRL friend who went to Munich recently with her husband and had no idea I was siphoning ideas from her as she regaled me with stories of her trip.
> 
> There are translations for a lot of the German words and references at the bottom of the piece, if that helps.

It's only day one, and Katniss already does not trust her host, Peeta Mellark.

She tells him so.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," she states bluntly the moment she steps into his cute Bavarian-style house in Munich, clutching her backpack straps tightly in her hands. It's everything she owns right now.

Peeta recoils, his cropped blond curls ruffling with the jerk of his head. "Buh— _bitte_?" he stutters in shock.

She is undeterred by his golly-gee demeanor and his bright blue eyes. She's young, but by now she's no novice when it comes to couchsurfing. As per Johanna's recommendation to use the online hospitality service after she told her friend about her plans to backpack across Europe, she's spent a week in Barcelona, then a week in Paris, a week in Venice, and now a week in Munich. Somehow, by chance, each host she's stayed with has been male, and each one apparently expected the  _easy American girl_  to put out in exchange for lodging.

She isn't going to wait to be propositioned this time.

"If you're expecting me to have sex with you, it's not going to happen," she says flatly, firming her mouth into a thin line as she faces down his wide eyes.

He blinks a few times, aghast, and immediately begins shaking his head, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Oh—Ich...also, nein! I do not— _no sex_ ," he wheezes out on a gasping breath as he waves his hands, his words clipped by his heavy German accent.

She narrows her eyes at him skeptically, giving him a once-over under her lashes. Aside from his broad shoulders and sturdy stature, he looks harmless enough, in his perfectly wrinkle-free trousers and pressed, plaid button-down shirt. His house is neat and tidy but small, though she knows, having seen "American Psycho," that cleanliness doesn't preclude him from being a serial killer. Still, the pale pallor of his face, the way the blood first drained from his face then flushed his cheeks in sheer embarrassment at her suggestion, gives her comfort.

She still doesn't trust him, but she feels more at ease.

"Okay, just wanted to establish the ground rules," she says, releasing her death grip on her backpack. "I've...had some troubling encounters with my hosts so far."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peeta pushes his thick black frame glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. "I am sorry you have met...Arschlöcher. Bitte, I have no...I do not expect... _sex_ ," he says, almost sheepishly. His cheeks are still stained pink. "I have a, ähm, girlfriend. Meine Freundin."

He says this with a smile, but this gives her pause. "A girlfriend? And she has no problem with you hosting a girl in your house?" Katniss asks, eyeing his living room, but she sees no affectations that hint at a female occupant. "Does she live here too?" If she had a boyfriend— _still—_ she's pretty sure she would flip out if he let a strange foreign girl live in his house, alone, for a week. But maybe Germans are different.

Peeta shakes his head, laughing slightly. "Nein, no, we do not live together. We are...it has only been some months. Three months. She is abroad in Südamer—ah,  _South America_. It's been her idea. Me having other travelers here, in München."

"Oh." Katniss exhales, her main fears alleviated for the time being. "Well. Thank you for allowing me to stay here for the week. Um, danke schön, Peeta," she says a little awkwardly. Her German is limited and stilted, quickly absorbed from a small English-to-German translation guide on her train ride from Venice.

He laughs again, his cheeks dimpling, and she's not sure if he's laughing at her poor attempt at his language or what. "Bitte schön, Miss Everdeen. You are much welcome. You speak Deutsch?"

She grimaces as she shrugs her backpack off, and he eagerly takes it from her. "Um, very,  _very_  little."

He grins at her. She thinks she can see the freckles on his nose from where she's standing. She didn't expect German men to look so...so... _picturesque_  is the only word she can think of. "That is no problem. I will speak Englisch to make you feel more at home. Aber—ah, well, as you can see...my Englisch is not very good," he bemoans contritely, his cheeks reddening once again.

For the first time since meeting him, Katniss smiles. Genuinely. "Your English sounds perfect, Peeta. Call me Katniss.  _Bitte_."

His grin is brilliant. "Sehr gerne. Okay.  _Katniss_." For some reason, the way his mouth and tongue form her name makes her feel more at home than she's felt since leaving America. She thinks she might be blushing, and she ducks her head, nervously stroking her messy braid. She's suddenly very aware that she hasn't showered in three days.

"I will show you my house," he continues, hitching her backpack onto his arm. He gestures for her to follow him. "You can see your room. I hope the, ah...the housing will be to your pleasure."

 _Pleasure._  She makes a face as she trails behind him through his house. On the wall in the hallway, she glimpses photos of him and people she presumes to be family and friends. And one pretty little blonde he's cozied up to, who must be his—what did he call her?— _Freundin_.

She shakes her head to dislodge the pointless thought. This is going to be an interesting week.

* * *

Katniss stares at the itinerary Peeta has prepared for her, overwhelmed. He's taken the initiative to detail places she should visit and restaurants she should try. The entire week is packed. Her previous hosts just left her to her own devices for the most part, especially once it was clear she wasn't going to sleep with them.

She isn't sure if she's annoyed or grateful he's gone out of his way to accommodate her. He's just so... _nice_. She doesn't know how to handle it.

It's her second day in Munich. After Peeta showed her around his house yesterday, he suggested she take it easy for the rest of the evening. She showered, and he made her a meal out of wonderful, traditional Austrian food: Bratwurst and Schnitzel and Käsespätzle and Reiberdatschi and the most amazing Apfelstrudel she's ever eaten, something that especially pleased him since it came from the bakery he owns, which he said he inherited from his parents. She didn't realize how hungry she was until she saw the spread before her; afterward, she thought she was going to explode. They talked for a bit while they ate, acquainting themselves with each other like it was the first day of school, and then she pretty much passed out into a food coma.

Upon waking up, that was when she found on his dining table the itinerary and a note from him informing her he would be at his bakery for most of the day. His note stresses that these are only his suggestions, but he recommends she stop by his bakery first for a hearty breakfast of "Laugencroissant and Krapfen—my favorite—for free! :)".

She stares at that smiley-face flourish, neatly scribbled in his elegant handwriting. Oddly enough, she can picture his pleasant smile as she stares at it; she can't help but smile, too.

With a sigh, she stretches and heads back into the guestroom he set her up in to change. As much as she normally despises handouts, she's never been one to pass up free food.

Throwing on a pair of skinny jeans and a green sweater, she combs her fingers through her thick, black hair; when her fingers catch on knots, she winces and tugs a few times until she's worked them all out. Then she plaits it in an intricate braid, and once she's satisfied with her work, she slips on her hiking boots and throws on a light, hooded jacket.

Before she leaves his house, she stuffs his itinerary into her small messenger bag, and then she locks his door on her way out with a spare key he gave her. Following the little stone path to the sidewalk, she stops to look up the address of his bakery on her phone. She brings up the directions on her map, and once she's oriented, she begins walking in the direction it tells her to head.

It's a 20-minute walk, and the route takes her through a residential neighborhood to a section of the borough lined with shops and markets. In the middle she spots his bakery: Mellark's Bäckerei und Konditorei. She smiles in relief and crosses the street toward it, awkwardly jumping out of the way of cars and pedestrians who barely give her notice. She darts inside, the bell alerting her presence, and she's surprised by the number of customers. She almost wonders if she should leave, but before she can back out the door, Peeta's voice rings out.

"Hallo!" He waves at her and gestures for her to come up to the counter. Shyly, she ducks through the crowd and shuffles off to the side, where Peeta meets her, grinning. "Guten Morgen, Katniss. Schön, dass du gekommen bist. How are you?"

"Um,  _Guten Morgen_. Thanks. I mean,  _danke_. I'm good," she ventures tentatively, her gaze sweeping around the bakery. "You seem busy. Should I come back...?"

He shakes his head, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "It is okay. My, ähm, personal are good," he says, and Katniss glances over at the blonde pasty-faced girl at the register and the black man sifting through the display case to select pastries for the customers. Peeta grabs an empty chair and drags it around to the front of the counter next to her. "Sit down!" he instructs. "I will bring you something to eat."

Reluctantly, she perches on the tall chair, and once Peeta disappears into the back, she takes the opportunity to study the bakery. It's quaint, and though it's milling with people, she doesn't feel confined. She sniffs the air, pulling a deep breath into her lungs; it smells amazing, like bread and butter and cinnamon.

She's practically salivating by the time Peeta returns, a plate of pastries and a mug in hand. He sets it down in front of her, and she raises her eyebrows expectantly. "Laugencroissant," he points to a pretzelized croissant and then to a donut-like pastry, "and a Krapfen, as I promised." He gently pushes the mug toward her with a smile. "And because you said last night you do not like coffee, I made you hot chocolate. It is sehr lecker...ähm,  _delicious_  if you put the Laugencroissant in it," he suggests, pointing at the croissant.

Her eyes are round with amazement, and she smiles gratefully at him. "Wow, thank you. This looks...amazing. Are you sure I can't pay you—" she begins doubtfully, reaching into her bag, but he waves her off.

"Nein! Bitte, eat. I will leave you alone while you eat. Guten Appetit!" he tells her, smiling easily, and when she nods reluctantly, he whisks away, talking to the cashier for a moment before disappearing into the back.

Katniss looks down at her plate, debating where to start. She decides to eat the Krapfen first, since Peeta said it was his favorite. The donut-like pastry is covered in powdered sugar, and she picks it up. It's warm, freshly made, and when she takes a bite, the dough almost seems to melt on her tongue. The center is filled with jam—plum?—and she practically inhales it after only a few bites. Licking the sugar off her fingers, she moves on to the croissant. It's flaky but tougher than she expects. She rips off a piece and, per his instructions, dips it in the hot chocolate. Blowing on it briefly, she bites into it. It tastes like a buttery, soft pretzel, sweetened by the hot chocolate.

It doesn't take her long to finish eating, and when Peeta returns a little while later, she's polishing off her drink, as well. His face lights up. "Gut?"

She nods enthusiastically. "It was amazing. Thank you so much, Peeta."

"More?" he prods, and her eyes widen. She shakes her head.

"Oh, no, I couldn't—I mean, it was wonderful, but I can't ask you to—"

He waves her off and holds up a finger. "Warte eine Sekunde." Her face drops as he goes into the back, reappearing a moment later with even more food than before and another hot chocolate.

"Peeta..." she says warily as he rounds the counter to join her. It's not even that she's full—she could certainly eat more, that's never been a problem—but she really hates feeling indebted to people.

"I will eat with you," he offers, pulling up another chair. When she glances around the bakery again, she realizes the crowd has thinned out.

"Is that okay?" she asks hesitantly, and he chuckles.

"I am the owner. Delly and Thresh are good. They are fine," he dismisses as he tears into his own Krapfen. When he gestures for her to eat as well, she reluctantly grabs another donut, smiling a weak thanks. "I am happy you like the food."

She nods. "It's very good. I don't know how you work here and look like you do," she says wryly. "I'd want to eat everything all the time." She bites into the Krapfen.

Peeta gives her a curious look, and she's unsure if she said something offensive or something he doesn't understand, but he finally shakes his head. "I go jog. Often," he explains. She nods in understanding.

"Well, your girlfriend must both love  _and_ hate you," she jokes, stuffing the rest of the donut in her mouth when she realizes how idiotic she sounds. She didn't mean to sound like she was prying for details on their relationship.

He laughs, shaking his head again. "Nein. She does not eat most of the stuff I make here," he says, pointing to the display cases full of bread and other treats. "She does not eat bread, sadly."

"Why?" she asks incredulously, and he shrugs.

"Ah...what is the word? Kohlenhydrate. Ähm...the stuff that is contained in flour and, ähm...considered bad for the figure...Not sugar. The other thing. Coal...coalhydrates?" he replies, struggling, and she makes a face.

"Carbohydrates?" she tries, and he lightly taps his fist against the counter, nodding. Her expression twists into one of disbelief. "Carbs are not the enemy," she mutters sadly, and he laughs at that.

"Genau, danke! I am glad you agree," he says enthusiastically, and she smiles at him. She doesn't understand how he can date someone who essentially shuns his livelihood. Especially when that livelihood is so delicious. In silent support, she grabs another croissant and greedily tears into it, and Peeta smiles appreciatively.

* * *

After leaving Peeta's bakery, Katniss spends the rest of the day exploring Marienplatz, the next item on his itinerary. She loves the gothic architecture, admiring the buildings as she walks around the Neues Rathaus and the Altes Rathaus. She stops to watch the Glockenspiel as it chimes and plays out some sordid love story she can't quite follow. She checks out the Frauenkirche, and then she dips in and out of the numerous shops and restaurants.

Exhausted, she makes the trek back to Peeta's house late afternoon. He doesn't return from the bakery until after she's showered and stretched out on his couch to relax. When the front door opens, she sits up quickly, inexplicably embarrassed, as if she's made herself too comfortable in his house, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Hallo," he greets tiredly, but his smile is still unwavering. She gives him a tentative wave.

"Hey," she says, but realizes she should make more of an effort to speak to him in his language. "Um,  _guten Tag_."

Tossing his keys and wallet on a side table, he joins her in the living room and collapses in an armchair. "Did you go to Marienplatz today?" he asks, briefly removing his glasses to rub his eyes.

She nods. "Yeah— _ja_. Spent most of the afternoon there. Thank you for the recommendation," she says, combing her fingers through her damp hair. Realizing she's already had two showers in less than 24 hours, she makes a berating mental note to not use so much of his water the rest of the week.

He smiles, scratching his head. "What do you think?"

"It was really nice. Very pretty. Interesting stores," she replies.

"Did you watch the Glockenspiel?" She nods at his question. "Did you like it?"

She scrunches her nose, wondering how honest she can be with him. "Well...I thought it was kind of dumb, actually. I didn't get the big deal about it."

His eyes bulge, but he laughs heartily, leaning forward in his chair. " _Was_?" he gasps. She's embarrassed, flushing under the collar of her shirt, but she gets a little defensive.

"It just seems silly, like something you'd expect in Disney World or something, not in the heart of a centuries' old city," she argues, trying not to scowl openly at him. He's still laughing, but he shakes his head.

"Nein, no, I agree with you. Truthfully," he chuckles. "I think...I am shocked. I did not expect you to say that. I feel...offended because you are criticizing my city, so I feel—I feel a little protective. But you are right. It is kitschig.  _Silly_."

"I don't mean to offend you," she says, horrified, but he just grins at her.

"It is okay. Truthfully, every time I go by it, and it plays, I think,  _ugh, ernsthaft_?" He scrunches his nose in an exaggerated manner, and she finally laughs, tentatively, relieved that he's not upset with her.

Still snickering quietly, he shakes his head. "How did you like your first day in München?"

She finds her hands fidgeting with her hair, absently separating the wet locks into three sections to braid and unbraid. "It was fun. Looking forward to exploring more." She hesitates, glancing at him before she looks away and continues, "It was just...a little lonely."

He furrows his brow. "Lonely?" he repeats, considering this. She nods.

She's loathe to admit it, but backpacking alone hasn't been as invigorating as she thought it would be. She was just so ready to get away for a while, she didn't consider how isolated she might feel once she was abroad. She didn't realize she could feel lonelier than she already did at home.

Of course, she hasn't told Peeta the real reason why she took off for Europe, why she is traveling by herself. She gave him an elusive answer when he asked her the night before, and he didn't push it.

Luckily, he doesn't push now. He seems timid when he speaks next, surprising her, "Maybe, if you would like company, I can join you. While you explore," he offers.

"What?" she asks, and she begins sputtering in shock, unprepared for such an offer, "But—I mean, you have—don't you have to work and stuff?"

He smiles. "That is no problem. I am the owner. I trust my workers with my bakery. I can show you around so you do not have to be lonely."

Katniss tugs anxiously on the hem of her shirt, wanting to say no. She generally likes doing things on her own; she certainly didn't want her other hosts to accompany her anywhere. But Peeta's company is already more enjoyable. And it might be nice to see the town with someone who knows it...

Still, she's stubborn, and she hates feeling like she's putting him out. "I don't know, Peeta. I feel bad, like I'm making you change your plans just to accommodate me. Really, I'm capable of going by myself. I don't need a babysitter."

He shakes his head, holding up his hand. "Not babysitter. Just company. So you are not lonely and can...appreciate the country more," he explains, his eyes clear with honesty.

She hesitates a moment longer before finally agreeing. "Okay...if you're sure it's not a problem..."

With a resolute nod of his head, he stands up. "I shall shower, and we can start tonight."

"Tonight?" she asks, her eyes following him as he crosses the room. He just laughs.

"You are going to be hungry, richtig? I am. So, we get dinner now."

* * *

Katniss is exhausted, but she refuses to let Peeta know. Instead, she lags behind him just barely as he leads her on a trail through the Allgäu region of the Bavarian Alps. After she told him at dinner last night that she likes to hike, he was adamant they spend the next day doing so. The scenery is absolutely beautiful, but either she's not used to the altitude here or their trek to Neuschwanstein Castle in Hohenschwangau earlier that morning already wiped her out because she wants nothing more than to just sit down in a hot bath and not move for a few hours.

But she's stubborn and competitive, and he might have the build and endurance for non-stop activity, but she's been in the woods all her life. She's determined to keep up.

"Alles gut?" he calls over his shoulder, ducking under a wispy branch. She grits her teeth as she easily clears the branch behind him.

"I'm perfect," she replies, digging her toe against a tree root to launch herself off and catch up with him faster. He stops suddenly and swings around, his face drawn.

"Verdammt. I had hoped you say no," he says, his voice resigned, but he smiles raggedly at her. "I am tired."

Her face lights up. "Oh, thank god. I didn't want to be the first one to say it," she moans, leaning over to brace her hands against her knees.

He laughs. "We should go back. I wanted to show you all the trails, but I think this is enough."

She nods. "I think I get the picture. Your mountains kick our mountains' asses."

Chuckling, he shrugs as he falls in step beside her to head the direction that they came on the trail. "I cannot say if that is true or not," he says, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.

"Have you been to America?" she asks him, her eyes glancing between him and the ground before her so she doesn't trip on the unfamiliar terrain.

He shakes his head. "Nein. Have I disappointed you?" His lips quirk humorously, and she laughs.

"No. I'm sure there are better places to travel to first," she replies. "The Appalachian Mountains are nice though, especially the Blue Ridge Parkway," she adds as an afterthought.

"What is the Blue Ridge Parkway?"

She shrugs, lifting her braid off her neck to let the air cool her flushed skin. "Just a road that takes you through the scenic parts of the Appalachians. It's just a nice introduction to the mountains there, I guess."

He seems to consider this. "I will keep it in mind if I visit Amerika one day."

She opens her mouth to offer him lodging should that day come, but then she remembers her empty house back home, the one she's not even sure she'll keep once she returns. She doesn't really want to think about it, though; she specifically left the country so she wouldn't have to.

"Well, if you do, feel free to look me up," she says lamely, rushing to add, "You and your girlfriend, or whoever."

If he finds her offer bizarre, he doesn't let on; he just smiles. "I will."

Still, she feels like she's said something inappropriate or crossed a line somehow, so she picks up her pace a little, hopping down the trail a few steps to clear some roots and rocks.

"There is a road around here I can drive you on," he says behind her, and she looks back over her shoulder. The sun filtering through the trees behind him glints off his blond hair. "Like the parkway you talked about. Very pretty, very nice. You can see more of the, ähm, nature and towns. I can show you before we leave."

She pauses for a moment, allowing him to catch up with her, and then she agrees. "Sure, that sounds fun."

He looks at his watch and then smiles at her. "We will not drive the whole thing. It would take hours. I would fall asleep while driving," he jokes, and she returns his smile.

"Yeah, I don't particularly want to die on my vacation," she says drolly, averting her eyes when his gaze becomes too intense. "Um, does the road have a name?"

"Ja, Romantische Straße. Romantic Road."

She stumbles slightly on a root, her eyes going wide. He picks up on her discomfort. "Oh, nein, so war das nicht gemeint! It is named for, ähm, the—the  _cultural_ feeling, for her history," he explains, and she laughs uncomfortably.

"Right, yeah, that's—yeah. Cool," she mutters, keeping a couple paces ahead of him so he can't see her blush.

* * *

She's not sure why she's so rattled after their hike, but she spends their entire drive in his little Volkswagen on Romantic Road asking him about his girlfriend, as if to set some boundaries between them.

She learns her name is Madge. She is 26 and a school teacher. They were set up by mutual friends because, Peeta jokes, "It is difficult to meet women in the back of a bakery." And she is currently teaching German in South America through an educational program for a few months. She's been away for a few weeks so far. Katniss wonders how they can be dating seriously if they've only been together three months and she's been away for a month of their time together, but she doesn't press. She doesn't want him to misconstrue her curiosity.

"Do you have a man in your life?" he asks, and she raises her eyebrows, dreading where this conversation is heading.

"A boyfriend?" she stalls, drumming her fingers on the car door handle.

"Ja. If you do not want to talk about it, I understand. I think I have talked so much about myself, but I feel I do not know much about you," he says, keeping his eyes on the road.

Katniss turns her head to stare out the window at the passing trees and meadows. She isn't exactly comfortable talking about the subject; there are a lot of topics she doesn't want to discuss or think about, really. But it probably isn't very fair to dig so much into his life and offer nothing in return.

"Um, no, I don't. Have a boyfriend. I did. Before I came to Europe. But we broke up. Well, I broke up with him." She hesitates, sifting through her words, debating how much to reveal. "His name was Gale. I mean, _is_  Gale. We've been friends since we were teenagers. But...it just wasn't working, I guess. So I ended it and decided I wanted to get away for a little bit." She squints, catching her faint reflection in the passenger window, and she frowns. It's mostly true, at least.

"Das tut mir leid," Peeta says soberly, and she finally looks back at him. When he glances between her and the road, she catches the sincerity etched across his face.

She shakes her head. "It's okay. I'm fine with the breakup, really," she stresses, and that is definitely the truth. "I'm having a good time here. In Europe."

He smiles at her, and her lips stretch into a small one before she turns back to face the window. Peeta picks up the conversation again, changing the subject to describe the areas and towns they drive past.

* * *

The next day they visit the Englischer Garten and a couple of the museums. She's not particularly impressed by the modern art museum, but Peeta is enthralled.

"This is my first time here," he confesses as they walk through the exhibits, his eyes riveted to each new installation and art piece they pass.

"Really?" she asks, and he shakes his head.

"Working so much, owning my bakery, it is hard to find the time to go do things." He glances at her and smiles. "I should thank you for finally giving me an excuse."

She shrugs, a little embarrassed that she's somehow monopolized so much of his time in her short stay in Munich. "I guess you're pretty lucky I decided to crash at your place then," she says sardonically, looking away when he laughs but unable to stop a smile of her own.

"Very lucky," he agrees, stopping to study a piece. Peering over his shoulder, she scrunches her nose. It's a light bulb in a lemon. She doesn't get it. Peeta continues talking after a moment, his voice low, "I wanted to be an artist, once."

Surprised, she turns her attention to him. "An artist?" He nods. "Well...what stopped you?"

"Becoming a baker, taking over my family's business, was much easier," he replies, his tone and expression a little sheepish. "Being an artist for money is difficult. And...my parents thought art was not a smart, ah...career."

She considers this. "Are you any good? At art?"

He laughs. "Terrible," he jokes, then he shrugs. "I think I am okay."

For some reason, she has a feeling he's being modest. "Well...I'm sure baking requires a particular level of...skill with your hands," she offers. Realizing that might sound like a come-on, she adds, "And some creativity."

He nods in agreement. "Das ist richtig. Yes. I enjoy baking," he says thoughtfully, and they move on to the next exhibit. "It is...necessary. People need to eat," he says dryly, and she laughs.

"But it's true. You create something with your hands, and you make something that people need. Food is so important, especially because of the community it builds between people. That's amazing, I think," she tells him, and he seems to be mulling her words over.

"Community," he tastes the word slowly, and then he offers her a smile. "I like it. Your explanation makes my profession sound, ähm... _noble_. It sounds more beautiful in Englisch," he laughs, and she gawks at him.

"Beautiful? I don't think I've heard anyone say that about English, ever. American English, anyway."

Peeta snorts in amusement. "Have you listened to how German sounds?"

She doesn't want to tell him that, actually, she thinks he sounds really cute with his accent, so she laughs softly instead, hoping her blush isn't obvious. "German isn't bad. I like it, actually. The harshness of the language. Why do people always want soft, pretty-sounding languages?" She realizes she's rambling, and she distracts herself by digging through her messenger bag for her lip balm.

"You might be the first Amerikaner I have heard say that," he teases her, and when she looks at him, she notices he is watching her as she applies the balm to her lips. They both glance away at the same time. "So, ähm, what do you do? Back home," he clarifies. "University? Or a job?"

Chewing on her bottom lip, she stuffs the tube of lip balm back into her bag. Yet another topic she doesn't really want to discuss, but she knows she can't evade the discussion forever. "Um, I graduated college a couple years ago. Environmental studies," she hedges, not meeting his eyes as she scuffs her shoe on the museum floor. "I guess...I still haven't really figured out what I want to do," she finishes lamely, and she continues walking, stopping to stare at a neon green light fixture that makes zero sense to her.

Peeta walks up beside her and stops, examining the piece in silence. She's very aware of his presence at her side, but she tries not to focus on it. After a moment, he leans in closer to her, making her breath catch in her throat, but he whispers conspiratorially, "I think I am better at making art than this person."

Her laugh is a short, loud bark, and, embarrassed, she quickly covers her mouth with her hand to shush the sound when she catches the nasty glares from other patrons.

* * *

"So what are your friends like?" Katniss asks as she climbs out of the cab behind Peeta, who shuts the door once she's cleared it, and they fall in step together as they head for the Hofbräuhaus. This experience is probably what she's most been looking forward to—beer and food—but she's been a little apprehensive ever since Peeta mentioned they were meeting up with two of his friends, Finnick and Annie, while they were there.

He scratches his chin as he contemplates her question. "Annie is wunderbar. Very...welcoming and nice. And that is good because she—ähm, how do you say—keeps Finnick, ähm...normal?" he says uncertainly, and she smiles when he looks to her for confirmation.

"So you're telling me I should be worried," she jokes, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

He laughs. "Nein. Well. Ja, truthfully." He holds up his fingers just an inch apart, squinting at her. "Ein kleines bisschen. A little bit." She makes a face, and he grins with a shake of his head. "Nein, he is a good person, truly. But I think he likes making other people uncomfortable. So, do not take anything he says seriously," he warns good-naturedly. She hopes to consume enough beer to ease her interactions with his friends, but she reminds herself they're his friends, and she finds him pleasant, so his friends shouldn't be too hard to get along with.

Once inside the Hofbräuhaus, Katniss is taken aback by how crowded the place is. And how  _loud_. She's not sure there's even anywhere to sit, and she looks helplessly at Peeta beside her, who is scanning the crowd thoroughly. His face lights up in triumph after a minute.

"Da hinten ist was frei," he tells her, waving for her to follow him as he weaves his way through the crowd and around the tables until he directs her to a few empty seats at the end of one long table. She eyes the people beside them as she sits down, wary of their proximity. Peeta laughs across the table from her. "You will get used to the closeness. It is our way."

"Your people are weird," she quips. "We Americans like to be as isolated from each other as possible."

He raises his eyebrows innocently and juts his thumb over his shoulder. "I can sit at another table if you like."

"No! Don't leave me alone with your friends," she laughs, and he grins at her. A server appears with a basket of Brez'n, plopping it down on the table, and she greets them in German. She speaks too fast for Katniss to comprehend, so Katniss glances to Peeta for help.

"Wir brauchen noch einen Moment," he tells the server with an apologetic smile. When she walks away, he looks to Katniss. "Do you know what you want to drink?"

"Uhh," she looks around for a menu. "I have no idea. What do you recommend?"

"Do you like dark or light Bier?" he asks. She shrugs.

"Either. Dark more so, I guess."

"It is good here," he tells her. "They just have simple beers here. You should also try a Radler."

"What's that?" she asks, reaching for a pretzel.

"Bier mit— _with_  lemonade." She nods as she tears off a piece of the soft pretzel to pop into her mouth, and she realizes he is smiling at her.

"What?" she asks as she chews.

"You know you have to pay for those, richtig?" He laughs at her expression. "Nicht kostenlos. Not free."

"Oh, I didn't—I mean, she just put it on the table—I thought it was complimentary," she rushes out after a hard swallow, reaching to put the pretzel back, but Peeta shakes his head.

"Nein, eat! It is okay, we can buy them," he chuckles, taking a pretzel too. "I did not know if you understood."

"Usually in America anything they bring out without being asked to is free," she grumbles diffidently. He nods.

"Other countries, other habits," he adds before taking a bite of his pretzel, and, reluctantly, Katniss finishes hers. When the server returns, Peeta rattles off their drink order. She brings around their liters of beer after a few minutes, and Katniss' stomach drops at the sheer size of the glasses. She realizes Peeta is laughing at her. "Can you handle that Maß? You look like you will drown in it."

She scowls at him, lifting the mug up to take a hearty swig of the dark, frothy beverage. "Don't worry about me," she says haughtily, licking the lingering drops from her lips.

Peeta appraises her and holds his own Maß out to her to clink their glasses together, locking eyes with her. "Prost!" he cheers and takes a sip. She holds his stare, momentarily immobilized by the intensity of it, until his eyes focus on something over her shoulder, breaking the moment. His face lights up, and she takes a quick swig of her beer to wash down the unsettling feeling. "Ah, they are here. Finnick, Annie!" he calls to his friends, waving them over. Katniss feels a twinge of disappointment but tells herself it's anxiety, not because she wants to spend time with just Peeta.

Nervously tucking some hair behind her ear, she turns around in her seat to see the couple making their way toward them. Finnick is stupidly attractive—in a conventional sort of way, she supposes—with his reddish-bronze hair and tall, slender frame. Annie is small and petite, practically drowning under a cape of long, brown hair. When they reach their table, they greet Peeta in German and hug him over the table, talking at a frenetic pace. Katniss' lips twitch uncomfortably when they finally glance at her, and she holds out her hand to shake theirs.

"Hallo," she says, smiling a little wider when they smile at her. Peeta gestures to her.

"Das ist Katniss aus Amerika. Sie wohnt diese Woche bei mir. Be nice!" Katniss doesn't understand most of what he's saying, but Finnick grins at her as he sits down beside Peeta.

"Aye, I can speak English for her," Finnick says, and she's surprised at the lack of a marked German dialect, such as the one Peeta has. "I'm from Ireland originally." He eyes Annie lovingly. "Moved here for this lass."

"Oh," Katniss starts, glancing between them. "That's really cool. How did you two meet then?"

Unlike Finnick, Annie's words are clipped by a German accent when she speaks to Katniss, though she appears to speak English more fluently than Peeta. "I went to Ireland for a semester during my last year at university. We met in class, and unfortunately I couldn't shake him," she says with a wry smile. "Followed me all the way back home, the Dummkopf."

"Ah, she plays coy, but she agreed to marry me, so she can't be too bothered by me," Finnick grins as he reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. Katniss' eye is drawn to the ring on her finger.

"He's not too bad, I guess," Annie says with a roll of her eyes, but Katniss can't miss the way they look at each other. Like nothing else in the world matters. For some reason, it makes her stomach tighten painfully. She smiles at them anyway.

"Well, congratulations," she says, and as an afterthought, she raises her beer to them. "Um, prost," she mimics Peeta's declaration from earlier, looking to him for assurance. He tinks his glass to hers in acknowledgment, again holding her gaze.

"Prost," he echoes, winking at her before sipping his beer. She hides her smile behind her own glass, taking a large gulp.

The server reappears to take Finnick and Annie's drink orders. Once that's out of the way, Finnick turns his attention back to Katniss, his eyes bright with interest.

"So, how're you likin' Germany so far?"

Katniss swallows the beer in her mouth, setting the glass down. "Uh, well, aside from not being able to understand anybody and being duped by the pretzel scam, I like it a lot."

Peeta laughs, but Finnick and Annie look mildly confused. She feels instantly mortified by her joke, and she doesn't want to seem ungrateful or rude so she hastens to add, "It's a really lovely city and country, and Peeta's been very nice and accommodating. I've had a lot of fun so far."

Finnick grins then, nodding. "Right, Peeta's always been a sucker for a pretty face, am I right, lad?" he says, slapping his friend on the shoulder. Katniss' stomach runs hot with embarrassment, her mouth going dry, and she doesn't want to do it, but she can't help checking Peeta's reaction. He looks mostly unfazed, though he cuts his eyes to Finnick and good-naturedly shakes his friend's hand off his shoulder.

"Hatte ich nicht gesagt, du sollst dich benehmen," he says, and while his tone is light enough, his cheeks seem to flush pink, and he distracts himself by cleaning off his glasses, removing them to blow any dust particles off the lenses. Katniss eagerly gulps down her beer, letting the rich liquid pour down her throat and pool in her belly. Why does she feel so weird? Finnick didn't say  _Peeta_ thought she was pretty; his statement just implies that  _Finnick_ does. That's embarrassing enough, she tells herself.

Annie shakes her head, angling her face to speak to Katniss. "I told you he was lucky I said yes," she mutters loud enough for Finnick to hear.

"Ah, I'm just teasin', lass. I'm sure Peeta warned you 'bout me. Annie says I should come with a disclaimer. But I know what you mean 'bout the language—I didn't know any German when I moved here, but you pick it up fast."

She's not so sure about that. She barely passed Spanish in school, and so far all she's really managed while here is how to wish Peeta good morning and good night.

"Katniss speaks fine, but I am sure my, ähm, mixing of Englisch and Deutsch around her does not help," Peeta interjects, but Katniss shakes her head.

"I'm pretty sure you speak better English than I do, actually," she tells him self-deprecatingly.

"That's probably Madge's influence," Annie adds, and Katniss is a little taken back by the sudden mention of Peeta's girlfriend. Of course. Madge. Why wouldn't she come up? Feeling inexplicably foolish, Katniss grabs a pretzel to occupy her hands as she picks at the tiny granules of salt.

"Oh?" she asks absently, feigning as much interest as she can. Peeta answers as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Ja, Madge speaks many languages very well: Englisch, Spanisch, Französisch, Portugiesisch, Italienisch. Ich denke...I think she is also learning Japanisch."

"Oh, wow," Katniss says stupidly, and she struggles for something more substantial. "That's, uh, yeah, that's really amazing. She sounds really smart." And Katniss feels wholly inadequate surrounded by all these interesting, worldly people.

Peeta nods, smiling slightly. "Oh ja, sie ist sehr intelligent. I do not know why she dates a simple baker like me," he says blithely.

 _Because you're handsome. Because you're kind. Because you're funny. Because you're warm and inviting, and you make amazing food._  The reasons scroll through her mind unbidden, and Katniss just smiles wanly at him before stuffing the pretzel in her mouth and chasing it with beer.

Swallowing hard, she feels compelled to keep the conversation going. "Um, is that how you guys met? Through them?" she asks, gesturing to Annie and Finnick, and the three of them nod.

"I know Madge from our linguistics program in university years ago," Annie confirms. "I thought she and Peeta would get along very well." She smirks at Peeta. "I love being right."

Peeta smiles, bowing his head to her in deferment. "Natürlich, you were right." His eyes slide toward Katniss, but she looks away, pretending to observe the decorations of the beer hall.

"So what brought you to Germany, Katniss?" Finnick asks, and she's grateful for the change of conversation.

"Oh, just wanted to get out and see the world. Thought Europe would be the best place to start," she answers as vaguely as possible. "You know, the usual quarter-life crisis stuff."

"Ah, and you ended up on the doorstep of one of Munich's most boring residents, you poor lass," Finnick ribs his friend gently, who scoffs.

"There are people who find a man who spends all day baking very interesting," Peeta rebuffs with mock indignation.

"It's incredible you snagged a woman who is not one of them," Annie tinkles with laughter, and he shrugs.

"I am lucky that Madge finds me interesting in other ways," he replies, and Katniss notices the way the corner of his mouth pulls, just slightly, into a smirk. His words, their implication, make her feel sick and hot, and she becomes flustered and mute when he chances a look in her direction. She doesn't know him, or any of them, well enough to crack jokes about his sexual prowess. She shouldn't even be  _thinking_ about him like that; it's inappropriate and...completely overwhelming.

A nervous, unexpected laugh bubbles out of her throat, and she's horrified when she realizes the sound's coming from her, attracting the others' attention. She feels woozy and flushed, and she tightens her grip on the slippery, dewey glass of her Maß. It's the beer, she tells herself, and she blurts the first thing that comes to mind, "Um, she's really missing out on his amazing buns." Annie and Finnick start cackling, and Katniss realizes her mistake a second later, her eyes widening. Peeta doesn't seem to understand the entendre, thankfully, as he just stares in mild confusion at his friends. "Cheese buns! I mean, his cheese buns are really good. Um, his... _Käsebr_ _ö_ _tschen_ ," she fumbles for the correct German pronunciation of the word he used to describe the deliciously gooey cheese buns he made for breakfast one morning this week.

"Aye, I think Madge knows all about his  _buns_ , lass," Finnick cracks, and Annie swats at him, trying to shush him.

Peeta is still slightly puzzled, but he gives Katniss a sympathetic look, trying to pick up her line of conversation. "You are the first person to try the Käsebrötchen, truthfully. They are new," he says.

"Well, they're really good," Katniss says weakly, sipping on her beer. He smiles, pleased.

"Danke."

Annie pipes up again, her face more sober. "Please, Katniss. I hope you don't think we were making fun of the way you speak," she apologizes and after taking a gulp of her beer, she continues, "We're just immature."

Katniss affords her a small smile, shrugging. "No, it's okay. I get it. Words have never been my thing, anyway," she deflects, watching a small carbonation bubble float its way to the foamy surface of her beer and pop a second later.

"Katniss has helped me greatly with my Englisch," Peeta offers. "It was always my weakest subject in school." She just shrugs, wanting the attention off of her. Mercifully, Finnick offers her a reprieve.

"Aye, I think I need a smoke. I'll be back," he says as he stands up, and Annie joins him outside.

When Katniss looks over at Peeta, he regards her with a contrite expression. "I apologize if my friends have insulted you."

"No! No, they're fine," she assures him, gesticulating a little too wildly with her hands to wave off his concerns. "I just misspoke, and it was funny, but I was a little embarrassed. It's okay."

Reassured, he smiles and leans forward, his grin growing covert. "I told you about Finnick, but Annie is just as bad as he is. She will not admit to it." When she chuckles lightly, he chugs some of his beer.

"Well, they seem perfect together then," she says, glancing absently in the direction they wandered off to. Then she looks back to Peeta, who is watching her. "How did you meet them, in school?"

"Ja, Annie. We lived in einer WG—ähm, a shared apartment. We lived in one together with many other students."

"That's cool." She's still feeling a little uneasy from the earlier conversation, so she's not sure what else to talk about, but luckily Peeta never seems to suffer the same problem.

"Do you like the Bier?" he asks, and she nods enthusiastically.

"Yes, it's really good."

"Are you hungry? We can eat food here," he says, gesturing behind him vaguely, to an unseen kitchen she assumes.

She smiles at him. "I don't know. I might just get my money's worth out of these pretzels," she replies, and he chuckles gruffly.

"I think, with you around, I would not have to worry about being without a job," he says with a lopsided grin. Her stomach flutters. His eyes are so blue, even through the glares reflecting off his glasses from the dim lighting of the Hofbräuhaus.

Still, his hypothetical confuses her, so she tries to return the joke as innocently as possible, her laugh strained. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. I would probably eat you  _out_  of a job."

"I like a hearty appetite," he confirms, ruffling his hair while she finishes the last large gulp of her beer. His eyes dart to the side, signaling Finnick and Annie's return to the table. The stale stench of cigarette smoke clings to them, and when Katniss makes a discreet face to herself, Peeta smiles apologetically at her. With a shrug, she just snatches a pretzel from the basket and deeply inhales the comforting aroma of butter and salt and yeast. Peeta's shoulders convulse with quiet laughter as he shakes his head, and she simpers stupidly behind her hands.

"Well, don't hog all the Brez'n, love," Finnick derides her harmlessly as he grabs a pretzel for himself.

* * *

Over the next hour Katniss gets to know Peeta's friends, and while their initial introduction was rocky, she realizes she likes them. They spend a lot of time ribbing each other, and although she's grateful most of the attention is off of her finally, she still feels welcomed and comfortable. A lot of times, Finnick and Annie sidetrack the conversation to discuss details for their impending wedding, and with a comical roll of his eyes, Peeta will engage her in their own more private discussion. And maybe it's because she's had two beers, but she's never found talking to someone else so easy and natural before.

"Do you want another beer?" she asks as she spots the server heading their way, pointing to his nearly empty glass, and he nods.

"Gerne, if you are buying," he says jokingly, and she smiles widely at him. She feels more encouraged to talk to their server now, and when she nears their table, Katniss holds up her fingers to signal their order.

"Can we get two more, bitte?" she asks politely. The server nods her acquiescence, but Katniss is startled when Peeta guffaws uproariously, clamping his hand around her fingers. She jumps at the contact, her eyes wide as she stares at him, and he shakes his head.

"You are very much a tourist," he chastises, and before she can ask what the hell he's talking about, he curls her middle finger down into her palm and pushes her thumb out to join her index finger. "That is how we do it," he chuckles.

Her face runs hot immediately. "Oh," she says sheepishly and tries to brush it off, though she feels stupid for such an obvious mistake. "That's like a grave mistake here, too, isn't it? I've seen 'Inglourious Basterds.' Am I going to die?"

"Nein, no one will shoot you," he carries the joke, and she lowers her hand to the table. His hand follows, still wrapped around hers. He doesn't remove it, and her heart begins to thump erratically in her throat. His thumb surreptitiously brushes across her knuckles, and the first time she's sure it's just an accident, but the second time convinces her it's an intentional touch. Swallowing thickly, she stares at his hand and then lifts her eyes to his face. His eyes are darker somehow, fixated on her face, but he drops his gaze a second later when he strokes the tops of her knuckles again, languidly, before he meets her eyes again. Her heart is fluttering, the rhythmic staccato stretching all the way from her chest to the spot in her skin directly under his touch, and their surroundings are temporarily liquid and murky, like he's the only thing in focus.

And then the moment is shattered when the server drops their beers on the table. Blushing, Katniss breaks eye contact with Peeta and glances around; when she sees Finnick looking at them, his brow furrowed in suspicion, she looks away and delicately pries her hand away, trying not to draw any more attention to their clasped hands. Her action seems to jar Peeta out of his reverie, and he coughs into the hand that was just touching hers, then he rubs the back of his neck. His cheeks are pink, and he gives her a flustered smile when she meets his gaze.

Peeta clears his throat. "Ich—ähm, I need to...use the bathroom," he says, bumping the table slightly as he stands up before heading toward the restroom. Katniss feels the heat of Finnick and Annie's stares, so she tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ears before eagerly chugging down some of her beer. She can still feel Peeta's touch burned across her knuckles when she sets her glass back down, and as she stares unseeingly at the Maß, she absently strokes the skin he touched just moments before.

Her brain feels fuzzy from the alcohol, and she can't quite process what happened. It was innocent, she tells herself for the sake of maintaining the easygoing rapport they have crafted since she arrived.

When Peeta returns, she is determined to put the incident out of her mind. His face looks hesitant despite his forced smile, and she musters a nonchalant one of her own as he sits back down. "So I don't know about you, but I think I'm ready to eat some actual food now," she declares with forced cheeriness, looking at everyone expectantly.

"Yes, I am famished," Annie agrees. Finnick nods and is already perusing a menu.

Peeta's expression relaxes some, his smile and jaw a little looser. "Aber sicher. We will eat." Katniss grabs a menu at hand, eager to pretend that nothing happened. Although she's half-heartedly convinced herself that his actions were chaste, there was something breathtakingly gentle and deliberate about his touch...

Against her better judgment, she discreetly glances up at Peeta through her eyelashes, inadvertently catching his eye when he does the same. Her breath sticks in her throat, but her lips quirk in a shy smile; he returns it, a quick flash of pink skin and white teeth, and she ducks her head toward her menu again, biting the corner of her lip between her teeth. She's too warm with excitement and alcohol to really reason out the consequences of her behavior, or his. She just feels full and happy and anxious. And decidedly a little drunk.

"What do you recommend?" she sighs after a moment of staring helplessly at her menu, unable to concentrate. Peeta helps her select a dish to order, but they end up sharing, eating off each other's plate when the food arrives a little later.

After dinner, she feels more relaxed and comfortable, and she actually engages Annie about her upcoming nuptials, emboldened by alcohol as she asks for details. As she's sucking down the last dregs of her third beer, she catches Peeta and Finnick in the middle of a heated discussion. Peeta actually looks...mad. She's never seen him like that, his brow furrowed, his jaw line hard, his lips pursed, and his nostrils flared. He's staring at the table, his head ducked slightly as he listens to Finnick speak quietly to him. The beer hall is too loud around them for Katniss to catch anything they're saying, but Peeta shakes his head and says something to Finnick in a low, harsh tone before ending the conversation.

He looks toward her, and she directs her attention back to Annie before he can notice she was watching them. "Katniss," he says abruptly. "Are you finished with your Bier?"

Surprised, she glances between him and her empty glass. "Uh, yeah."

"I think I am ready to leave. Are you?"

She looks around the table at Annie and Finnick, who seems slightly perturbed, but he smiles tightly at her when they make eye contact. "Sure, if you are," she agrees. Peeta nods again curtly, and then he signals to the server for their check. Things are uncomfortable while they wait, and Katniss falls into silence while Annie makes sparse conversation with a suddenly reticent Finnick. When they get their tab, Peeta refuses to let Katniss pay for her share; normally, she would protest more, but his tone is clipped and firm and broaches no argument, and this is the first time in four days that she's seen him even slightly irritated.

What the hell were he and Finnick talking about?

The dread in her stomach tells her it has something to do with her, so she stays quiet until they leave, offering a polite goodbye to Annie and Finnick with as much enthusiasm as she can summon. Peeta and Finnick hug, and he leans across the table to hug Annie as well, and then they leave, Katniss walking briskly at Peeta's side to keep up with his quick pace. They don't speak as they wait for a cab, and she's at a loss for what to do, afraid to make the situation even more uncomfortable. It doesn't take too long to hail a cab, and the two of them sit in silence in the back seat as they head back to Peeta's house. Finally, the tension becomes too much, and she looks at him warily..

"Um...are you okay?" she hedges, keeping her voice low as she observes the hard lines of his clenched jaw and squared shoulders.

His eyebrows lift, and he glances at her. Sighing, he relaxes the muscles of his face, and his body almost seems to deflate in his seat. "Ja. I am sorry. I am just...distracted," he chooses his words carefully, his eyes trained on the windshield from the backseat.

She chews on the inside of her mouth as she contemplates this. "It's just...you and Finnick seemed upset or something."

He inhales deeply and releases it, his lips pursing slightly, and he eventually shakes his head. "Nein. We only...we disagreed. Do not worry. Please. Alles ist gut. It is okay." With that, he smiles at her. She relaxes some and gives a short nod of her head.

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure," she says, and she's not entirely convinced, but she's more than willing to drop it. "Thank you for dinner and everything. You'll have to let me get the next round," she insists, and his smile widens.

"Did you enjoy it? I hope you had a good time."

"Yeah, it was fun. I probably drank too much," she complains, pinching the bridge of her nose when her vision shifts.

Peeta grins. "Drei Bier. I am in awe you are alive."

She laughs, but she pouts stubbornly at him. "I told you I can handle my alcohol. Barely." He laughs, and she leans her head back on the seat to focus on him. "I didn't embarrass myself too much, did I?"

"Nein, I think Annie and Finnick very much like you."

She squints at him, wanting to ask him if that's really true about Finnick but not wanting to ruin the mood again. So she lets it go. But she regards him carefully, narrowing her eyes. "Well, he said I was pretty at least, so I guess that's something," she remarks flippantly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye.

His expression shifts a few times, his cheek twitching, his eyelashes fluttering, his mouth pinching together, and his throat bobs with a hard swallow as he searches vainly for a response. Then he looks at her when the cab makes a turn onto a street. "You are. Sehr hübsch sogar." He turns his attention back to the road, revealing nothing more with his face or his words, but she's glad he's not still looking at her so he doesn't catch the stupid grin that takes over her face then. She cranes her neck to look out the window, facing away from him just in case.

"Danke," she whispers, amazed that even with the liquid depressant coursing through her, her heart can still manage to thump so hard, so quickly in her chest. She catches his hazy reflection in the glass, illuminated in yellow and white flickers of the passing street lights, and thoughtlessly her hand comes up to press her fingertips to the cold pane and trace his outline. "So are you," she adds, tongue loosened and made brazen by the alcohol. She's too drunk to feel any embarrassment at her admission just yet, but she watches his reflection. His eyes widen just barely, his mouth going slack, and she hears his hard breath out, but he doesn't respond.

It's probably for the best. Regret is scraping at the edges of her consciousness now, like a sharp thumbtack, so she closes her eyes to ride the rest of the way home in a sleepy haze. Her brain is so foggy she doesn't even notice or chastise her use of the word  _home_ to describe his place.

It's not long before she's jarred to alertness when she feels the cab stopping. She looks over at Peeta as he's paying the driver, sleepily returning his smile when he flashes one at her before she clambers out of the cab. She must look wobbly, or maybe he's just that nice, because he rushes around the cab to help her to the sidewalk, pressing his hand to the small of her back as he guides her to his house.

"Vorsicht," he murmurs as he lets them inside, and she has no idea what that means, but his voice low in her ear sends a delicious shudder through her body. She's pretty sure she groans under her breath, but he either doesn't hear it or politely ignores the pathetic sound. Despite hours in a bar, he smells enticingly masculine, and she fills her lungs with the scent before she has to break away from him as he shuts the door behind them.

As he shuffles farther into the house, she spins around to face him. Her hands automatically seek out the comfort of her braid, pulling it over her shoulder to stroke mindlessly. She remembers their shared moment in the bar earlier, his hand on hers, tenderly caressing the skin of her knuckles, and she inhales tremulously, wondering what his hand would feel like on other parts of her.

But she knows she can't afford to think like that. It's dangerous, and hopeless. Summoning a brave smile, she meets his eyes in the dimness. He's only a couple feet away, watching her strangely.

"Thank you again, Peeta. I had a really good time," she says quietly. She's not sure if he heard her because he doesn't respond, his face impassive, his eyes stormy and searching. She doesn't know what to do, so she tugs helplessly on the frayed end of her braid. "Well...I guess I should get to bed."

Finally, he speaks, taking a hesitant step toward her. "Ja." A pause. "Ich auch." But neither of them make a move toward their separate rooms. He's so close, the heat emanating from his body warms her to her core, and she can't get her heart rate to slow down enough so she can take anything but quick, shallow breaths. Her eyes are heavy and lidded when she peers up at him through her eyelashes, and she sees the quiver in his nostrils as they flare slightly with his inhale.

"Katniss," he murmurs, the sound strained, but the melodic pull of it seems to lasso her in, drawing her closer. His hands are on her face suddenly, and then his lips, at first questioning, tentative, and then he's kissing her, his tongue running along her lips until he's repeating the gesture on her own tongue. She moans, whimpers really, spurring him to kiss her harder, more desperately, his tongue and lips finding whatever space they can. She tries to return the kiss with equal fervor, but he's too insistent, too demanding, and all she can do is submit to his mouth, laid bare. She feels like he's going to suck in the very essence of her soul, whatever it is that makes her  _her_ , and she knows right then she would relinquish it in a heartbeat.

When he stops a moment later, it's jarring, like jerking against a seatbelt when a car slams to a halt, and her mouth unconsciously tries to follow his until she realizes he's stepping away from her. She freezes so she doesn't stumble forward, and her eyes flutter open. His expression is pained, twisted in horror, and her stomach sinks.

" _Scheiße_ , Ich—I...shit, I denke— _think_  I...I think I had too much to drink. I am so sorry," he mutters, unable to meet her gaze as his hands scrub fretfully through his unruly curls. "Gute Nacht."

And he steps around her, disappearing down his hall to his room. Katniss just stares at the empty spot where he stood not even 10 seconds ago, her heart bottoming out in her stomach.

* * *

Gray sunlight coaxes Katniss awake as she surfaces from a restless sleep, and after she manages to pry her eyes open, she just stares at the wall, reluctant to get up. It's a miracle she even managed to fall asleep last night; she's grateful she had enough alcohol in her to aid her in the troubled process. Because all she could think about last night was Peeta and just how royally she fucked everything up. And now the rest of her stay is bound to be awkward and uncomfortable.

 _Way to go, brainless,_  she berates herself mentally, and with a sigh she lumbers into a sitting position before pushing off the bed. The hardwood is cold against her feet, and she tiptoes to the door, her bladder angry and full. She's quiet as she stealthily creeps to the bathroom and relieves herself, pausing a moment afterward to examine her bedraggled appearance. When she leaves the bathroom, however, she freezes at the sound of Peeta's voice drifting down the hallway. His voice is hushed but urgent, pained, and despite the voice in her head screaming at her to go back to bed, she follows the sound until she reaches the end of the hallway, just out of sight. Peeta must be in the kitchen; she can hear his heavy tread on the floor as he paces back and forth.

Holding her breath, she listens as she tries to determine what he's talking about—and to whom.

"—tut mir so leid. Es war ein Fehler, ich weiß. Ich wollte nicht... Madge, es tut mir leid. Ich hatte getrunken. Ich hätte nicht gedacht—nein, ich weiß dass ist keine Entschuldigung. Du hast ja Recht. Es tut mir leid. Nein, ich glaube nicht—nein, ich glaube nicht, dass das wahr ist. Es ist nicht ihre Schuld, sondern meine. Madge, bitte..."

 _Madge._  Katniss can hardly hear him over the sound of her heart pounding against her sternum. He must be talking to Madge. He's speaking too fast and too low for her to try to parse what little she understands of his German, but he sounds so distraught and apologetic. And because Peeta is such an honorable guy, of course he would confess everything to his girlfriend right away.

For the first time, Katniss really grasps what she did. Thanks to the fuzzy effects of the beer on her brain, all she could really think about last night was why Peeta pushed her away—not how she could kiss a man who has a  _girlfriend_. She feels sick to her stomach. What a selfish person she is. She probably just ruined a relationship, and she was only worried about herself and her feelings.

Silently, Katniss ducks away from the doorway and steals away into her room, carefully shutting the door behind her. Then she dives back into her bed under the duvet before she can do something stupid like cry.

* * *

She drifts in and out of a fitful sleep, jarred awake at some point even by the soft shutting of the front door. Peeta must have left. She didn't think he was supposed to go anywhere today. Curiously, she slips out of bed and out of her room, searching the living room until she finds a note from him. It's simple and brief in its message:

_Katniss—_

_Went to the bakery. Will return after work._

_Peeta_

Her heart sinks, the guilt suffocating her like a lead weight. Great. She ran him out of his own house. She drops the note as if it's burned her, and she runs back into her room to change. She can't be here right now; she has to get out.

Grabbing her bag and a hooded jacket in case it rains, she decides to go hiking. She hops on a bus that takes her back to the area where she and Peeta went hiking, since it's the only place she knows well enough to explore by herself without fear of getting lost.

She hikes until she finds a small cliff, which she curls up on, her knees hugged to her chest as she surveys the tops of the woods and hills that surround her. The breeze is cool, biting at her cheeks and nose, so she pulls her hood up to shield her face more.

She's not sure how she can face Peeta again. She's never been in this position before. How do you apologize for drunkenly seducing someone into cheating on his girlfriend? She groans at the thought, pressing her mouth hard against her knee until pain radiates through her face and teeth.

She wishes she could talk to Prim right now. Even four years younger, wise-beyond-her-years Prim always knew just what to say to Katniss in moments like this...

The train of thought screeches to a halt as Katniss lifts her head and shakes it violently. No, she already has one crisis to deal with; she can't think about her sister right now. Warding off the threatening tears, Katniss stands up and begins her trek back down the mountain to head back to Peeta's house so she can start packing.

One thing is for certain: she can't stay with him the rest of the week.

* * *

When she arrives back at his place by late afternoon, she's alarmed to find his car out front. She was hoping he would have been at the bakery long enough for her to pack and maybe slip away without any confrontation. Because she's a coward.

But she supposes this is her comeuppance.

Reluctantly, she enters his house, still hoping she can make it to her room and avoid a discussion, but of course Peeta walks into the living room right as she is shutting the door behind her. They both freeze.

The sight of him immobilizes her, not just because she's embarrassed and terrified, but because he's that fucking gorgeous. All week she's been resistant to her attraction to him, but the kiss completely obliterated every one of those stubborn defenses. His blue eyes cut like ceramic as he stares at her, wide-eyed, and his pink lips are parted wordlessly, probably in some unspoken protestation at her presence—but all she can think about is kissing them again as she runs her hands through those unruly curls, letting them slide like satin between the grooves of her fingers.

She practically has to shake herself out of her stupor. What the hell is wrong with her? She is a horrible, horrible person for fantasizing about that right now.

Peeta seems to come to his senses right as she does, because he blinks and lifts his chin just slightly. "Katniss," he says hoarsely, and everything inside her weakens at the sound. "Where were you?"

It's the kind of question that, asked by anyone else, would immediately put her on the defensive. But he sounds so genuinely tormented, she feels inexplicably chastened. "I just—I went for a hike," she mumbles, folding her arms across her stomach nervously.

He deflates, the tension holding his shoulders and back taut releasing. "Oh." He nods, his eyes dropping to the ground. "I did not...You did not leave a note. I thought...maybe you decided to leave. Maybe you took off."

"Oh," she whispers, her pulse thrumming uncomfortably in her throat, and she shuffles her feet. "Well. You just...you said you'd gone to the bakery, and I didn't know if...I didn't know if I should just hang around your house, so I guess I figured I'd go out and...do something." He inhales deeply before expelling the breath, hard. She winces, taking the sound to be disparaging. "But, um. I think I should go. Stay somewhere else," she says with false determination, trying not to look at him directly, but she can't help a quick glance at his face. He looks stricken, and he swallows after a moment, ruffling his hair.

"Ah, herrje, ähm, ja. I, ähm. I understand if—if you feel you cannot...stay," he's stuttering uncharacteristically, much like he did the first moment she met him, rubbing the back of his neck. The other hand goes into his pocket, and he sighs again, stepping closer to her. She watches him anxiously. "Katniss, I am very sorry. About—about the kiss, für- _for_  kissing you. Last night. It was...it was not right and—bad. I did a bad thing. And I am sure you are...disgusted, at me. You told me the first day,  _no sex_ , and I—I kiss you, and I know you must think—I cannot imagine how, how uncomfortable you must be. I am sorry. Es tut mir leid. Entschuldige,  _bitte_."

She stares at him, mystified and mildly horrified. That's not what she was expecting him to say. At all. How can he blame himself? She's equally guilty; she leaned in to the kiss. Worst of all, she  _wanted_ him to do it. With no regard for his relationship.

She shakes her head vigorously. "Peeta...no. That's—no, it's...You don't have to apologize for that. I'm not upset that you—"  _kissed_ _me_ , but she's too embarrassed to say it for some reason. "I'm not mad or upset about  _that_. I just...I feel horrible because—I mean, I think I heard you talking to Madge this morning, and I just...I'm so sorry for causing this mess," she says pitifully, helplessly holding her arms out to her sides before dropping them. "I just thought I should go so I'm not causing you any more problems...in your relationship. I feel like I took advantage of your kindness, and...I just feel like such a jerk. I'm really sorry, Peeta."

"You do not have to apologize, Katniss," he replies solemnly, stuffing his free hand into his other pocket, and he rocks slightly on his heels. "I called Madge because I thought she should know...what I did. I did not want to lie or hide it from her. She is...very upset. Understandably." Katniss grimaces, ducking her head. "But that is my problem to deal with. I understand if you want to stay elsewhere, but...you do not have to go. I do not want you to go, truthfully."

She furrows her brow, her mouth pulling to the side as she tries to understand. "But...I mean, isn't it going to be super awkward because...Madge..."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, his gaze riveted to the floor, until he reaches up to scratch his head again, clearing his throat. "That is not a problem. We...are not together now."

Her face pales, her eyebrows shooting up in shock, and she drops her face into her hands to groan. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I can't believe—"

"Nein," he interrupts her, waving his hands at her, and she peeks at him through her fingers. "Nein, no—do not blame yourself, bitte. We, ähm, Madge and I decided it was the best."

She exhales through her teeth, unsure of what to make of that revelation. It doesn't matter what he says; she feels responsible at least to some degree. And that makes her feel shitty. But another part of her, a part she's afraid to acknowledge because it makes her feel even more terrible, is...not too disappointed.  _Relieved,_ actually.

She is definitely a shitty person.

Katniss begins to fidget, pulling on the hems of her sleeves. "Um, well. If you don't want me to leave...I mean, if you don't think it will be too weird for me to stay..."

He looks imploringly at her. "Only if you are comfortable staying."

She thinks about it a moment, averting her eyes, and then she nods. "Yeah. Um, I would be." Actually, she'll be uncomfortable, but the truth is that she doesn't  _really_ want to leave. Aside from this fiasco, her stay here has been the most enjoyable part of her whole trip. "Thank you."

He nods as well. "Gut," he says quietly.

* * *

The rest of the evening is tense until they sit down for dinner. Once again Peeta makes her a feast, and she stares at the spread guiltily.

"You really didn't have to go through all this trouble..." she pleads, her eyes darting between him and the table as he sits down across from her.

He ducks his head a little sheepishly. "I want to, ähm, ausbügeln...for last night." he explains softly.

She's unsure of his exact word choice but infers his meaning and shakes her head. "You really don't have to apologize to me."

"I hate if I have made you uncomfortable."

She is unable to meet his gaze when she mutters, "I wasn't uncomfortable." If he hears her, or understands her implication, he doesn't respond; he just clears his throat, and she takes her utensils in hand to spear a bratwurst onto her plate and begins eating earnestly.

As they eat, there's a noticeable dearth of conversation, probably because neither wants to inadvertently bring up the kiss, though it's really all Katniss can think about. So she steers toward a safer topic and asks him about his day at the bakery.

"It was good, but I feel already like I forgot how to bake after only three days away," he says lightly, and she smiles.

"You don't take much vacation?" she inquires, and he shakes his head, wiping his mouth with a napkin after he swallows the bite of bratwurst he just took.

"Nein. I guess I am a work, ähm,  _addict_. I have not taken a vacation for over a year."

"Wow," she murmurs.

She used to be like that. This is the first vacation she's taken in years.

"I do not know how you do it," he says with a smile. "Going away for weeks. I would go sick with worry about my bakery."

She blinks at him, her mouth a thin line. She's not sure why she does what she does next, maybe it's because she's tired of being so closed off. Maybe it's because his eyes remind her so much of Prim's, with the same hint of kindness.

"My mom and my sister died two years ago," she blurts, rather bluntly. His fork freezes midair, his eyes going large. She continues, not really focusing on his face as she talks, "They died in a car accident. On their way to my college graduation. It was rainy. My mom's car hydroplaned and ran off the road." She stops to swallow thickly before resuming, "I spent the last two years trying to deal with the finances and the estate, and I absorbed myself in waiting tables at this bar I worked at...until I realized I just needed to get away for a while. My dad took off when I was little, so...it's just me now. I didn't know what to do with all their stuff. It was painful to look at, so I sold everything I could and got rid of the rest.

"Being alone in the house where I grew up with my sister was hard, so that's why I came here, to get out of there. Maybe I'll sell it too. I don't know," she finishes lamely, finally risking a glance at him. His face looks ashen, and his fork clatters to the table as he drops his hand heavily.

"Mein Gott, Katniss, I...I am so sorry. I had no idea. That is...so awful." His words are a struggle, as if he is choked by her confession, and she looks down at her plate.

"Thanks," she whispers, scratching at a divot in his wooden table and pushing her sauerkraut around her plate with her fork. "It's been tough. My sister was my best friend."

"What was her name?" he asks gently, as if he's speaking to a wounded animal.

"Prim. Primrose." To her horror, tears prick at her eyes, and she tries to swallow them back. She feels Peeta's hand on hers a second later, a light, comforting squeeze that lingers. She looks up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but a tear escapes anyway.

"Thank you."

Leaning over the table slightly, Peeta reaches up with his other hand to brush the tear away. The gesture makes her heart palpitate; she's not sure why she opened up to him so readily, but she's glad she did. In the year and a half that she dated Gale, right after the accident, she could never bring herself to relate to him, to really talk to him. She broke up with him as soon as she realized she was just using him for comfort, as an escape to not have to deal with the pain; it wasn't fair to him.

"I am so sorry," Peeta says solemnly, and she laughs abruptly, embarrassed.

"Sorry for crying," she apologizes, swiping at her damp cheek, but he shakes his head.

"You are very brave, Katniss." She smiles gratefully, her eyes drifting toward their clasped hands. He doesn't release her, and her fingers twitch before squeezing his back. "Do you want to talk more about it?"

She hesitates and then shakes her head. "Um, maybe another time. Right now I kind of just want to enjoy this food," she tells him sincerely, and he smiles with a nod, pulling his hand back.

"Sehr gerne."

The silence that follows as they eat is more comfortable this time.

Afterward, when Peeta finally acquiesces to letting her help him clean the dishes, he asks her, "Would you like to go away tomorrow?"

She casts him a skeptical, sidelong glance as she scrubs a plate. "I'm already away," she deadpans, and he chuckles quietly.

"Nein, I mean...Leave Deutschland, out of München. We can take the train to Salzburg in Österreich. Austria. I have not been out of Deutschland in a long time. I have wanted to go there but have not been able to leave until now."

She considers this and then nods. Doing something with him that he hasn't experienced yet sounds exciting. "Of course. I'd like to do that," she tells him with a shy smile, and he returns it before dunking the cup in his hand under the hot running water in the sink.

"Danke, Liebling."

She's not entirely sure what he's calling her, but her stomach does a somersault anyway; she's pretty sure she understands the implication.

* * *

They spend the day in Salzburg, taking the train out of Munich and hiking the city by foot. They visit yet more gardens and castles, and while to her it isn't much different from Munich, it's fun seeing Peeta as the tourist this time.

He's most excited about the Stiegl Brewery.

"Das ist mein Lieblingsbier," he confesses as they take the tour. He's so excited, it takes him a second to notice her confusion. "My favorite. A little sour. Deutschland has, ähm, Purity Laws for her beer, that is why you do not see much variety. Biergesetz. Österreich does not have these laws..."

Katniss watches his face as he talks, the childlike awe dancing in his eyes behind his glasses tugging a smile out of her. She samples the beers she's given during the tour, agreeing with him when she likes the taste and trying not to laugh at his disappointment when she disagrees.

After, once they're satiated on beer and happily buzzed, they grab dinner. They nearly miss their train back to Munich, having to run through Salzburg just to make it on time. Katniss is out of breath when she collapses in her seat, and Peeta plops down beside her, panting heavily. His cheeks are red and his curls wind-blown; she doesn't even need to look at her reflection in the window to know her hair is equally frizzy. But he grins at her, and they both start laughing.

"Danke, Katniss, for coming with me," he says with a sigh, settling back in his seat as he attempts to tame his unruly curls with the flat of his hand. She does the same, unbraiding her hair and combing her fingers through it.

"You've indulged me enough this week," she says dismissively with a shrug. "I owed you."

He shakes his head. "Nein. It has been my pleasure having you." His voice is softer this time, and she can't even look at him, averting her eyes to the window on her right as a familiar heat consumes her face and warms the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she managed all day not to think about their kiss, forcing it to the outskirts of her mind, but now, with that one word— _pleasure—_ she's thinking about it again, remembering the feel of his tongue in her mouth, his taste, the way his hands cradled her face, the soft sounds scratching at the back of his throat.

"You're welcome," she mumbles, pretending to be distracted with rebraiding her hair. They don't speak as the train leaves the station, taking them back to Munich. It doesn't take long for the gentle rocking of the train to lull her into a peaceful sleep, assisted by alcohol.

When she awakes sometime later, she's extremely disoriented; she slept so deeply, it takes her a moment to piece together that she's still on the train.

And her head is resting on Peeta's shoulder, their hands interlocked on his thigh. Alarmed, she jerks back but realizes he is also asleep, his head slumped back against the seat, his mouth parted slightly as he inhales, exhales periodically. She watches him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She wants to reach up and trace the freckles on his nose, but she refrains; instead, slowly, she lays her head back down on his shoulder, snuggling back up to his side. Tentatively, she squeezes his hand before trailing her thumb over his knuckles, much like he had done hers at the Hofbräuhaus.

She freezes when he shifts a moment later, his chest expanding as he inhales deeper, but he lifts his free hand up to caress her head, his fingers threading through the hair at her crown before stilling. Her breath catches in her throat until she relaxes into his touch, closing her eyes again. She's not sure if he's awake or not, but she lets herself enjoy the moment while she can, eventually drifting off to sleep until they arrive back in Munich an hour later. When she awakes then, it's to him shaking her shoulder lightly.

Their hands are no longer clasped, and she looks at him groggily. He smiles and points out the window. "We are there."

She nods and sits up, then she leans forward to grab her bag and shield her face from him. They don't talk about their sleeping arrangement on the train as they disembark and catch a bus back to his house.

There's a tension between them, but this time it's not unpleasant. She catches him looking at her multiple times as they walk home after the bus ride, and she laughs self-consciously after the fourth time. "What, why do you keep staring at me?" she asks, struggling to keep her eyes trained ahead of her. He chuckles and shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Nichts, nothing," he says with a grin, dropping his gaze to the ground. When she sneaks another glance at him a moment later, he does the same, and she laughs again in embarrassment, pressing a hand to her flushed cheek.

"Stop," she demands with lackluster conviction, her voice weak with laughter, as they walk the path up to his front door.

He holds up his hands defenselessly before unlocking his door and opening it for her. "I am sorry if I make you uncomfortable," he apologizes genuinely, but there's still a hint of a smile on his face as she passes him.

She turns back to him once inside, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly, and he shuts the door behind him and turns on the light. "I'm not uncomfortable, but I feel like you should tell someone why if you're going to keep staring at them," she challenges, trying to suppress her smile.

He holds her gaze for a moment, and under the cutting blue every part of her seems to smolder. His voice is soft, resolute when he speaks, "You have no idea. The effect you have."

Her heart flutters, and she stares at him as she tries to breathe. "What? What does that mean?" she asks, but he doesn't respond, just shakes his head.

"Katniss, I am sorry to stare, wirklich," he says simply, starting to move past her, but her hand slaps against his chest to hold him in place.

"Peeta," she pleads, her voice shaky. She's closer to him now, their bodies only inches apart, and he gazes down at her intensely, their eyes locked together until his dart down to her mouth. She can't help but glance at his, as well.

"Ja?" His prompt is a mere puff of hot air that fans across her face, and she can't think. Involuntarily, her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, slipping under the placket. Her thumb absently traces one of the smooth buttons.

"Peeta," she tries again, another plea but also a warning. He doesn't budge, his stare a challenge of sorts, and when she pulls herself closer, his lips quiver, only barely, just the smallest hint of a smirk.

She strains her neck upward and kisses him then, opening her mouth immediately to capture his lips with hers. His mouth concedes to hers readily, and he parts his mouth to accept her tongue. A whimper claws at the back of her throat, and she slips her arm around his neck as his hands splay across her back to crush her against his chest. She tries to pull herself as close to him as possible as they kiss, their lips and tongues pulling and tugging against each other frantically. Her nose and cheeks keep bumping against his glasses, but she hardly notices, distracted by the way he nips at her lips with his teeth.

"Katniss," he murmurs before his tongue dips into her mouth again, twisting around hers before flicking over the roof of her mouth. It sends a rush of moisture between her thighs, and she's suddenly achingly aware of how wet her panties are, how hard her clit is throbbing.

She breaks away from him slightly, startling him, but only to yank her messenger bag over her head and throw it somewhere on the floor. Then she furiously struggles out of her jacket, her shoulders catching clumsily in the armholes before she can successfully shed it. Peeta watches her, breathing hard.

"Willst du—ah—do you want to—to..." he struggles with his question, but she just nods as she pulls him into another kiss; it doesn't matter what he's asking, because she does, she  _wants,_ whatever she can have.

His hands grab her hips, pushing the hem of her shirt up so he can touch her bare skin, and his fingers seem to leave a trail of fire across her flesh. She jolts against him, pressing against the hard bulge under his slacks, and he groans around her tongue. He begins to steer her backward to his room, their mouths still sealed together, but she gasps when she bumps into the edge of the wall at the hallway.

"Bitte, Liebling," he breathes apologetically, but she doesn't care. He can fuck her right there against the wall for all she cares; she actually moves to unbutton her pants, but he hoists her into the air, and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist. She's shocked but has no time to process what he's doing before his mouth latches onto her neck, sucking greedily on the delicate flesh at the hollow of her throat as he takes her into his bedroom. He fumbles with the door, flinging it open blindly, and then he sets her down at the foot of his bed, keeping a secure hold on her waist even once her feet are on the ground. She stares up at him expectantly, her stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.

"Are you—sure you want to, to," he gestures behind her to the bed, his cheeks filling with blood even as his cock does. His lips are red and puffy, bruised from their desperate kisses. Swallowing thickly, she nods.

"Yes. I want to have sex with you," she says deliberately, self-conscious and embarrassed by her own frankness, but it seems to do something to him because he's kissing her ravenously the next second, his hands cupping and cradling her face. She reaches up to unbutton his shirt, but he does it for her, shrugging it off his shoulders once he has the buttons undone. Eagerly, she gropes at the planes of exposed pale skin, feeling the solidness of his shoulders, the firmness of his chest and abdomen, sliding her fingers through the sparse blond hairs. He sighs before cupping her face, drawing her to him for an impatient kiss, but then he frees her from her own shirt and tugs her pants down with her shoes. She kicks them off her feet as she hurriedly unclasps her bra, letting him drag the straps down her arms so she's completely topless before him.

He pauses, taking a moment to drink her in, then he catches her eye, trailing his thumb along her chin. "Du bist wunderschön," he whispers, dipping his hand to cup her breast. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes when his thumb brushes over her nipple repeatedly. She presses her hand over his, making him palm her breast more forcefully, and his mouth descends on hers again with as much fervor. She sinks down onto his bed, pulling him on top of her; Peeta wastes no time drawing her nipple into his mouth, sucking hungrily on the puckered tip.

"Oh god," she whimpers, the sensation of his wet tongue and teeth on her breast intensifying the throbbing between her thighs. She steeples her knees on the outside of his waist, pressing her center up into his groin for pressure and friction, but Peeta pulls away abruptly; the stark drop in the air temperature above her naked body makes her shiver as his body heat leaves her. "What—" she starts to ask, but he hooks his fingers into her panties and tugs them off her legs. Then he cups her bottom and drags her to the edge of the mattress, dropping down on his knees in between her legs. Her eyes go wide, and she hastens to sit up on her elbows. "Uhh, you don't—Peeta, you don't—have to—!"

"Ich möchte," he murmurs dangerously, and she loses her mind the moment his mouth touches her. Her legs bow open, and her hands shoot out to anchor in his hair.

"Oh fuck," she moans, feeling his tongue slide up her folds and flick over her clit. A delicious, almost painful pulse of pleasure shoots through her, arching her back, and she whines her approval aimlessly at the ceiling. He licks her slit a few times, drinking up her arousal, then he focuses his ministrations fully on her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue around it until he finds a rhythm that elicits the strongest reaction from her.

"Gut?" His voice is gruff, muffled, as he works his tongue back and forth over the swollen nub, and she nods frantically.

"Yes!" she gasps, her mouth falling open with a choked squeak when he slides two of his fingers inside her. They're thick, stretching her, and he pushes upward against her pelvic wall, applying an exquisite pressure that intensifies the pleasure in her clit under his tongue. Her orgasm approaches rapidly, and he makes quick work of her with his mouth. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," she moans a few seconds before her orgasm crashes through her, her hips rocking violently against his face as she rides it out with a few embarrassingly loud shouts. Peeta just groans, teasing her clit until she melts into the bed, then he laps at her pussy until he's satisfied.

Her legs are still quivering as he crawls onto the bed, and she feels delirious and unfocused, her head stretched back; she practically gulps for air, feeling her heart gradually slow its irregular beat. Her eyes flutter open when Peeta's hand frames her face, pushing her sweaty bangs out of her face. He smiles at her, his frames slightly askew, but his eyes are hooded and dark. His mouth glistens slightly, and he swipes the back of his hand over it. "Are you okay, Liebling?" he asks, and she merely nods. "Would you still like to have sex?"

She wants to laugh because nothing would make her happier than having his dick inside her right now—she would beg for it, really, after what he just did to her, but he's a gentleman for making sure.

"Yes, Peeta," she agrees eagerly, a little sleepily.

"I have, ähm,  _condoms_ ," he tells her, leaning over to his nightstand. She watches him rifle through the drawer until he produces a single foil packet. He takes a moment to remove his glasses and drop them on the nightstand before lying down beside her.

She's rarely seen him without his glasses before. "Can you still see me?" she asks curiously, and he grins at her, tearing the packet open.

"Mostly. But nothing could obscure your beauty, Liebling."

He is unreal. Katniss sits up quickly, pushing him down onto his back to straddle his legs. "Good, because I want you to see this," she whispers. Surprised into compliance, Peeta dumbly watches her strip him of his boxer-briefs. His cock bounces free of the constricting fabric, resting across his belly, and she takes a moment to observe it. It's nice and thick, and she can't resist running her hand over it experimentally. He inhales sharply at her touch, thrusting upward slightly when she fists his shaft in her hand.

Taking the condom from him, she pulls the prophylactic out of the foil and rolls it down onto his cock, then she shimmies up his body until she's hovering over his groin. She reaches between her legs to guide him inside her. The head of his cock parts her folds, and she sinks down onto him, undulating her hips some so she can accommodate him inch by inch. They both groan at the sensation, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, adjusting to the feeling of being this stretched and full.

"Oh, Liebling," he murmurs, and she opens her eyes to gaze down at him. He's staring up at her adoringly, and he flexes his hands around her thighs. Grabbing her braid, she hastily unplaits it and wraps the elastic around her wrist before running her hand through her tresses and tossing it over her shoulder. His eyes narrow. "You are so beautiful."

Smiling shyly, she braces her hands against his chest and begins to move on top of him, rocking her hips forward. Peeta inhales through his teeth, his eyes darting between her face and the juncture of their bodies. Using her shins for leverage, she rides him, rising up and down above him so her pussy repeatedly clamps down vise-like around his cock. His fingers tighten on her thighs, and he groans gravelly, thrusting up into her. "Mein Gott, Katniss. You feel...so... _verdammt_."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement, clenching around him. She smiles when he moans louder, and then she sits back some, bracing her hands on his thighs behind her. His eyes focus on her, hungrily watching her as she swivels her hips sensuously.

"Oh, _verdammt,_ " he swears again harshly, and he props himself up on his elbow, sliding his other hand up her thigh and abdomen so he can cup her breast. When he squeezes it firmly, she closes her eyes and sighs; he teases the nipple, pinching and pulling it between his thumb and forefinger, and she thrusts down on him harder, her pussy fluttering around his cock from the pleasure resonating from his attentions to her nipple.

"Peeta," she gasps when his mouth closes around it, his teeth clamping around the bud before he sucks on it vigorously. Her thighs are starting to burn with the strain of holding herself up, but her clit is throbbing again, arousal leaking out of her to ease the friction of his cock inside her.

"Oh, mein Liebling," he murmurs against her chest, nuzzling kisses up to her neck. His hands come around to her ass, cupping it to aid her as she rides his cock. "Can I fuck you?" he pants in her ear, and if she could come alone just from the sound of his voice, that would have done it.

She nods frantically, and he gathers her in his arms before rolling her onto her back. His cock slips out of her momentarily until he positions himself above her, between her legs, and then he's pushing into her again, eliciting a moan from her. He takes a leisurely pace at first, until she's comfortable, and then he braces himself on his forearms, pitched around her head, careful not to pull on her hair. He begins thrusting into her, more forcefully, and she opens herself to him wider, lifting her legs up until her knees are near her shoulders.

"Oh god," she groans, feeling his cock slide into her with growing urgency. Peeta presses his forehead against her cheek, his breaths hard and hot on her neck as he pants heavily through his nose.

" _Verdammt,_ Katniss," he grunts, his hips driving into hers, and he palms her breast again with a rough squeeze. "Can you—do you think you can—can come again?" he forces out, and she moans softly, slipping her fingers through his damp curls.

"If you touch me again," she begs, jerking against him a second letter when she feels his fingers dance across her clit again. "Fuck!" she cries, and he begins rubbing it, first circles and then hard swipes, up and down. It doesn't take long, with the manipulation of her clit enhanced by the sensation of his cock filling her, stretching her walls, and she comes with alarming suddenness only seconds later with an unrestrained cry.

Her walls pulse around his cock, and his grunts become raspier and more erratic, his thrusts slamming into her hips, threatening to split her open. Her thighs fall open as far as they can, her body made pliable and wieldy by her orgasm, and she barely registers when he comes a moment later.

" _Oh Gott_ ," he swears with a groan, stilling above her before he resumes rocking, just barely. She can feel him inside her, his cock thrumming as he empties himself into the condom. Her hands slide over his back and shoulders, and she lifts her head just slightly to kiss his temple. He looks at her then, his face flushed a beautiful ruddy color, and they just stare at each other, eyes glazed, until he comes back down from his high. Then he presses a kiss to her lips and lifts himself up onto the heels of his hands, shifting his hips back to slide his softening cock out of her. The air is unpleasant against her wet folds, and she closes her legs reluctantly when he moves off of her. "Alles gut?" he asks hoarsely, his fingers skimming down her arm, and she just nods languidly. He smiles. "I can bring you a towel," he says as he pulls the condom off.

As he climbs off the bed to walk into the bathroom, she watches him, appraising his ass. But once he disappears behind the door, she can feel the exhaustion creeping in, and she closes her eyes.

"Liebling." His voice a moment later pulls her back from the edge of sleep, and she peers at him through squinty eyes. He sits down beside her with a damp washcloth in hand. He holds it out to her. "Do you want to clean yourself?"

She hums in the affirmative but feels too sluggish to grab the washcloth. He chuckles lightly before parting her thighs, wiping her off, and then he pulls one of the duvets over her. When he doesn't immediately get into bed, she cracks her eye open to see him cross over to the window and open it. Then he crawls into bed, grabbing the other duvet to pull over him as he spoons her snugly from behind. Despite the cool breeze from the window, Peeta's like a heater, the warmth of his body insulating her quickly lulling her into unconsciousness. She's not sure, but just before she falls asleep, she thinks he kisses her head and whispers good night.

* * *

Katniss awakes the next morning wrapped in a cocoon of warm blankets and solid limbs. She lifts her head up from the shroud of covers, blinking the sleep crud out of her eyes, and comes face to face with Peeta, who is still sleeping. She watches him, visually tracing the lines of his face, and after a moment he stirs. When he cracks an eye open, she smiles bashfully. "Guten Morgen," she whispers.

"Mmm, hey," he greets, his voice scratchy and impossibly sexy, and he stretches before wrapping her in another hug. His lips press against hers in a murmur of a kiss, but he lingers, his tongue just barely grazing the seam of her mouth.

She grimaces. "My breath smells bad," she warns, trying not to breathe on him, but he shakes his head.

"Egal," he dismisses, his lips parting hers with the shape of his words, and she accepts his tongue into her mouth. The taste is sour and stale at first, but she forgets about it as his tongue decadently strokes hers. It quickly grows heated, her nipples puckering tightly against his chest, and she can feel the beading of moisture between her thighs, as well as his hardening erection on her hip.

"Condom?" she breathes out between kisses, and he nods, nipping at her jaw line before rolling over to fish out another condom. Once he has it on his cock, he settles between her legs and eases into her, pushing in and pulling out steadily until he's buried inside her fully, then he begins moving, slowly. She inhales deeply before releasing her breath, cupping his face in her hands. "God, that feels so good," she whimpers and angles her pelvis some so he can go deeper.

His nostrils flare as he exhales hard, but he grins at her, lifting a hand to gently tease her breast. "Wahnsinn," he says breathlessly and kisses her again. Their bodies slide together as he moves inside her, neither of them in a hurry, until he finishes. She hasn't come yet, the throbbing dull and unsated at her core, so he pulls out of her and sits back, holding her knees open with one hand as the other dips down between her thighs to rub her clit. His gaze stays locked on her pussy and the ministrations of his fingers, stroking her lips, teasing her hole, drawing her moisture out to lubricate her clit once he resumes rubbing it. There's something unbelievably hot about how shamelessly he looks at her, admiring her, and her body begins to writhe under his expertise; she moans lowly, grinding down on his hand as she plays with her own breasts until she comes within minutes. His fingers push into her, pumping a few times as her walls milk them with their gentle pulsations.

Finally, he releases her, sucking her off his fingers, then he leans down to kiss her. "It is a good morning," he laughs gruffly before climbing out of bed to trash the condom. Sitting up, she watches him put his underwear and a pair of pants on. After he slides his glasses on, he turns to hand her clothes. "Would you like to take a shower and I make you breakfast?" he offers.

She waffles at his kindness, gingerly taking the clothes from him to clutch to her naked chest. "Um, okay. If you don't mind," she hedges, and he smiles.

"Never. Enjoy your shower, Liebling."

He leaves the room, and she crawls out of the bed and slips into the bathroom. In the shower, as she rinses off under the warm spray, she finds herself smiling, thinking about Peeta and their time together. How nice it would be to wake up every day with him...

Her face falls abruptly, her eyes flying open. What the fuck is she thinking? She doesn't live here; she leaves tomorrow. There is a fast-approaching expiration date on all of this. Guilt and dread begin to seep in, and she bows her head under the water, closing her eyes again. She has no idea what he's thinking or feeling, but she's already feeling immensely responsible for his breakup, and now she's just going to leave after fucking him?

She feels despicable.

Sighing, she wipes the water out of her face and finishes cleaning off, then she gets out of the shower to towel off. She pulls her shirt and underwear on, finger combing her hair into something more manageable before she joins him in the kitchen. She falters in the hallway when she passes his wall of photos, her stomach twisting guiltily when the photo of Peeta and Madge catches her eyes. She tries to push the shame down as she slinks into the kitchen, fighting the sick feeling in her throat. Spotting her, Peeta smiles at her as he finishes setting out the spread of meats and breads and cheeses. "Sit, eat!" he encourages her, pulling a chair out for her.

She returns his smile half-heartedly, sliding into the seat as he takes the one beside her. "Um, thank you, Peeta," she says. She suddenly realizes how famished she feels, and she doesn't hesitate to dive in, ripping apart a roll to spread rhubarb jam and cheese on it. Peeta watches her as she eats, amusement dancing in his eyes, and he grins.

"It is very sexy to me, watching how much you like to eat the food I make."

She freezes mid-bite, swallowing hard after a moment. All the guilt from a moment ago comes crashing back, and she blurts out, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

His smile falls, and he blinks quietly. "I know," he says plainly after a moment. Her stomach knots itself, and she sets her roll down.

"I'm sorry. I just...I don't know what's happening here...and I'm not supposed to stay, but...you broke up with your girlfriend. And I guess I just feel awful. Like...I lead you on and stole someone's boyfriend, I guess," she confesses, the sick feeling climbing up her throat again.

Peeta stares at her silently, and then he smiles unexpectedly, just a small one, his lips pursed together, and he shakes his head. "You cannot steal me," he says ruefully. She makes a face, and he turns to face her fully, bracing his elbows on his knees. He leans forward, but his gaze is directed at the floor. "Katniss," he starts, seeming to struggle with how he wants to phrase his next sentence. "I like you. Very much. But I do not...expect anything. From you. If this week is all we have, then that is okay."

She's not sure she's really comforted by that. She furrows her brow. "You want more?" she asks uncertainly...or maybe hopefully.

He doesn't respond right away, mulling her question over. "I think...ideally...I do. But I know your life is in Amerika. Nicht in Deutschland. It would be unfair to expect a relationship with you." She doesn't know how to reply because her heart feels like it's both breaking and soaring, somehow, and she brings her knees up, hugging them to her chest. He's staring at her, concerned. "Katniss...I broke up with Madge, not for you. Not...precisely. I have feelings for you, Finnick helped me see that the other night. I thought that was unfair to Madge. I would not want to date someone who so easily falls in love with someone else. It is more kind to break up now before we get too serious than to...delay it and realize later my feelings for her are not very strong."

She stares at him, wide-eyed. "Fall...I mean, you—are you saying you  _fell in love with me_?" she stutters, her heart racing.

His face is impassive for a moment, but finally, he smiles, the corners of his mouth curling up just barely, and he shakes his head as he sits back in his chair. "Liebling, you cannot steal me. But you have stolen my heart."

Her mouth gapes open, but she feels like air and words have escaped her as she struggles to breathe. "Peeta," she squeaks after a brief, stunned silence, but he just pushes her plate closer to her.

"Eat, bitte. I want you to enjoy your last day here. There is no need to be sad."

Mutely she gawks at him as he resumes eating his own food; she feels faint, but her stomach feels heavy. Processing his confession right now is impossible, so she just eats the rest of her breakfast wordlessly.

* * *

After breakfast, Peeta acts normal, as if he didn't just drop a bomb on her, but the ease with which he speaks and interacts with her relaxes her eventually. She resolves to do what she does best and not think about the heaviness of their situation.

"What do you want to do for your last day?" he asks her, pulling a t-shirt that he grabbed from his dresser over his head. She sits on the edge of his bed, picking at a thread in his comforter as she watches the ropes of muscles in his back ripple with his movements.

She hasn't looked at the original itinerary he made her since the first day; she's not sure what there's left to do in Munich. But she's not sure she's really interested in doing any more tourist stuff.

"I don't know," she replies, folding her legs underneath her on the bed. She still hasn't changed into fresh clothes and truthfully, she rather not have to. "I'm not sure I'm up to going out today."

He turns to her, concerned. "Do you feel sick? Are you okay?" He sits down beside her, covering her hand with his own in a comforting gesture. She smiles and lifts her eyes to his.

"No. I'd just rather stay in and..." She stretches out on his bed, lying down on her back, and her smile turns coy. "There are things we can do and not have to leave your house."

His eyebrows perk slightly as he stares down at her, then he grins slowly. "You are saying that you want to fuck all day." His tone is teasing, and she's a little startled by his bluntness, her face turning red.

"I mean, we can eat and other stuff too," she says defensively. He must think she's a heathen.

Peeta's grin turns wolfish, and he lies down with her, tucked against her side so his body partly covers hers. Her blush blossoms all the way down to her navel as his hand pushes her shirt up to lazily knead her breast. The effect is instantaneous, the action resonating in her core. With a pleased sigh, she grabs the back of his head and pulls him down for a kiss.

His fingers trail down to her panties and slip under the waistband, and when she lifts her hips slightly, planting her feet on the bed, he slides them down her thighs, just a little bit to expose her, but he leaves them there, draped around her legs. She gasps around his tongue when she feels his finger tortuously grazing her hole, teasing the moisture out of her.

"I know what I want to taste," he murmurs deviously against her lips, and her mouth forms soundless shapes until she can find her words.

"We just ate," she jokes weakly, her hips arching toward him for more pressure or friction, something, but he continues to tease her. She stifles a whine. "Aren't you full?"

His laugh reverberates deep in his chest, and it rumbles through her, making her clit throb. "They say there is always room for dessert, nicht wahr?"

Katniss probably would have rolled her eyes at his cheesiness if the line didn't turn her on so much.

Her eyes do roll to the back of her head a few minutes later, however, when he makes her come with his mouth.

They don't leave the house all day; they barely even leave the bed, unless it's to eat in the kitchen—where they also find other uses for the counters and table.

They doze on and off as well, sated and sleepy from orgasms. And when they're too sore, they just use their hands and mouths to get the other off or kiss until they fall asleep.

After one particular orgasm that makes her toes curl and her body shake for a solid minute, Katniss tells him happily, "I really like you." Her guard is down, and she doesn't know why it matters, why she wants to hear it so badly, but she finds herself expecting him to say it again, to  _actually_ say "I love you."

But he doesn't. Peeta just smiles at her, content, and says instead, "I am happy."

She tries to shake it, but an inexplicable disappointment follows her to sleep.

* * *

The disappointment lingers with her through until the next morning, growing into something more unsettling that weighs on her chest like a lead ball, making it hard to breathe. Conversation is sparse between them as she packs her stuff to leave. She has a bus to catch to the airport for the flight that will take her, after weeks away, back to America, back to her empty house, where there's no family waiting for her, and no boyfriend either. She's dreading going back, but she knows she can't stay away forever. And she can't stay here, certainly. Life isn't some fairytale where you travel across the world and fall in love with a foreign man and live happily ever after having mind-blowing sex while he feeds you decadent treat after decadent treat.

You don't fall in love with someone you've only known for a week, no matter what Peeta says.  _Or doesn't say_ , she tacks on, a little bitterly.

He begs her to let him drive her, but she refuses. It'll be harder to say goodbye to him that way, in some grand romantic gesture at the airport, and she can't be sure that she won't change her mind once she gets there. She has to start severing the ties now.

Once her bags are packed, he walks her to the door and opens it for her. She tries to harden her face into a mask when she turns to look at him, but she crumbles inside immediately. He looks lost, even though she hasn't even left yet.

"Peeta..." she says shakily, not even knowing where to begin. "I...thank you. For everything. You have no idea..."

He smiles sadly, reaching up to caress her cheek. "I will miss you, Liebling. You can find me on Facebook, richtig?"

Her bottom lip wavers. She doesn't have Facebook, but she doesn't tell him that. She just nods and, uncharacteristically for her, throws her arms around him in a fierce hug. He squeezes her back, almost painfully, but she doesn't want to let go.

She does, anyway. Cupping his face, she presses her lips to his in a sweet, farewell kiss. Then she tells him, "I'll miss you, too. And your cheese buns."

His watery laugh echoes in her ears, even as she's walking down the sidewalk. Despite her best judgment, she looks back one time to find him watching her. She gives him one last wave then heads for the bus stop, refusing to look back again.

And that's the last she plans to see of him.

* * *

**[[six months later]]**

Katniss runs through her apartment, tripping over boxes as she tries to find her keys. They're not in her bag, and everything is in disarray and unorganized, and she's going to be late if she doesn't find them in the next two minutes. She can feel tears of frustration stinging her eyes. This is too important to fuck up already.

She freezes when there's a knock on her door, confused, but figures it's a nosy neighbor or maybe the delivery man, so she rushes to the door so she can quickly dismiss the person and resume her search.

But when she flings the door open, she actually gasps at the sight that greets her, the blond hair and blue eyes she's fantasized about daily for six months—but still wasn't expecting  _just_  yet.

"Peeta?!" she nearly shrieks, before throwing herself in his arms. He doesn't stumble as he scoops her up, his firm, solid body anchoring her against him. She hugs him tightly, inhaling his scent. "What are you doing here already? I was supposed to pick you up from the airport!" she exclaims, pulling back to look at him.

He laughs with a shrug, keeping his arms around her. "My plane arrived sooner. I thought I would surprise you, Liebling. I did not want to wait any longer. I found a taxicab. Very confusing. But I made it."

She shakes her head, wanting to chastise him, but instead she kisses him, pouring into it all the longing and want that had built over the months and over the miles.

After she returned home, she lasted all of four days before she cracked, made a Facebook profile, and looked him up online. She wasn't sure how receptive he would be to her contacting him, even though he told her to—maybe he came to his senses after she left—but he was ecstatic. They talked as much as the time difference allowed, falling into an unofficial relationship. She hasn't dated anyone else, and she knows he hasn't either. She had no interest in anyone else.

The long distance was hard, but having him there in some capacity made the last six months back home in America bearable. He helped her through the selling of her family home when she eventually decided to put it on the market and move into a small apartment alone. Once she was settled, he told her of his plans to visit America and asked if he could stay with her. "I think someone told me to look her up if I was ever in Amerika," he said jokingly.

And now he's here. It feels surreal. Katniss just wants to look at him, drink him in, but she reminds herself that he's just gotten off a nine-hour flight. "You must be tired," she says, reluctantly releasing him to pull him into the apartment.

"I was, but seeing you has revived me, Liebling," he declares dramatically, setting his bags down, and she rolls her eyes despite the warm thrill it sends through her belly, but his face takes on an abrupt look of consternation as he surveys her apartment. "Katniss. Why are there so many boxes? You moved here months ago."

"Oh." Suddenly, her palms feel clammy, and anxiety kicks in. She knows she was going to have to tell him at some point—and before, she was even looking forward to it—but now, faced with the real prospect of telling him, she's scared. And she begins to second-guess how he's going to react.

She clears her throat, nervously smoothing her braid between her fingers. "Um. I guess, I wanted to surprise you too." Dropping her braid, she begins wringing her wrists. "I broke my lease. I'm moving."

He just blinks at her, confused. "I do not understand..."

"I mean, not until after you leave," she clarifies hastily. "Actually, I thought...I thought I'd come with you. Um...back to Germany." She holds her breath, and his expression doesn't change.

" _Was_?" he asks stupidly. Shit. She should have discussed it with him first. This is a terrible idea.

She shrugs uncertainly, looking around at all the boxes. "There's nothing...there's nothing for me here really, anymore. I've just been waiting tables at Abernathy's. They won't miss me. But I miss  _you_. And I just...I just want to be with you. I don't have to move in with you, if it's too soon, but I can help you at the bakery, if you want, until I find a job." Now that she's said it out loud, it all sounds incredibly stupid. Exasperated, she presses her palms against her cheeks, shaking her head. "Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just sprung that on you. I should have asked you first. That was so rude—"

"Katniss." A dazzling smile breaks out across his face. "Katniss! Ja,  _yes_ , please come, bitte! You can live with me, work with me, stay in bed all day—alles, was du willst, but come, yes! Oh, Liebling!" He sweeps her up into another hug before kissing her happily, sloppily. Soon she's laughing giddily, their tongues brushing together fleetingly until they release the other's mouth a moment later. His hands frame her face as he stares down at her, smoothing his thumbs over her eyebrows. "You have made me so happy with this. I wanted to ask you, but I did not know if you were ready..."

Resolutely, she nods, feeling languid and warm with happiness. "I am." She peers up at his eyes, an earnest blue that no glasses can hide, and she takes a deep breath, steeling herself to say the words she's only had the confidence to say secretly to a computer screen until now. "Ich liebe dich, Peeta."

A wide smile dimples his cheeks. "I love you too, Katniss. I cannot wait to take you home." Her own face hurts from smiling, and she closes her eyes when he touches his forehead to hers.

For the first time in years, she finally understands that she can be happy. That things can be good again.

**Author's Note:**

> Arschlöcher: Assholes
> 
> Ähm: filler word for pauses in speech, like um or uh
> 
> Reiberdatschi: potato pancakes
> 
> Käsespätzle: pasta or dumplings with cheese, like macaroni and cheese
> 
> Schnitzel: thinned meat, such as chicken, coated in bread and then fried
> 
> Laugencroissant: pretzel croissants
> 
> Krapfen: donut-like pastry filled with jam and usually topped with powdered sugar or icing
> 
> Schön, dass du gekommen bist: I am happy you came.
> 
> Warte eine Sekunde: Wait a second.
> 
> Kohlenhydrate: Carbohydrates. Kohlen translated literally means coal.
> 
> Genau, danke!: Exactly, thank you!
> 
> Marienplatz: Mary's Square, central city square in Munich
> 
> Neues Rathaus: New City Hall
> 
> Altes Rathaus: Old City Hall
> 
> Frauenkirche: A landmark church in Marienplatz
> 
> Was?: What?
> 
> Ernsthaft?: Seriously?
> 
> Allgäu: a southern region in Germany that covers the prealpine lands to the Alps
> 
> Neuschwanstein Castle in Hohenschwangau: a castle built in the medieval style by King Ludwig II of Bavaria; Hohenschwangau is a village in Bavaria
> 
> Alles gut?: You okay/Everything good?
> 
> Verdammt: Dammit
> 
> Romantische Straße: a highway that links a number of castles and towns between Würzburg and Füssen in southern Germany
> 
> Oh, nein, so war das nicht gemeint!: Oh, no, that's not what I meant!
> 
> Das/es tut mir leid: I'm sorry
> 
> Hofbräuhaus: a popular beer house
> 
> Da hinten ist was frei: That one's [table] free.
> 
> Wir brauchen noch einen Moment: We need a moment.
> 
> Maß: big glasses contanining one liter of beer
> 
> Sie wohnt diese Woche bei mir: She's staying with me for the week.
> 
> Dummkopf: Idiot
> 
> Hatte ich nicht gesagt, du sollst dich benehmen: I told you to behave yourself.
> 
> einer WG: short for Wort Wohngemeinschaf, which is student housing, like a large apartment shared by multiple people.
> 
> Aber sicher: Of course.
> 
> Sehr hübsch sogar: Very pretty even
> 
> Vorsicht: Careful
> 
> Scheisse: Shit.
> 
> Tut mir so leid. Es war ein Fehler, ich weiß. Ich wollte nicht...: I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, I know. I did not want...Madge, I'm sorry. I had been drinking. I did not think - no, I know that is no excuse. You're right. I am sorry. No, I do not think - no, I do not think that's true. It's not her fault, just mine.
> 
> Entschuldig: Forgive me.
> 
> Liebling: term of endearment, like darling or sweetheart or, very literally, favorite
> 
> Ich möchte: I want
> 
> Ausbügeln: iron out
> 
> Das ist mein Lieblingsbier: It's my favorite beer
> 
> Du bist wunderschön: You're beautiful.
> 
> Egal: All the same
> 
> Wahnsinn: Madness
> 
> alles, was du willst: whatever you want
> 
> nicht wahr?: Is it?/Do they not?


End file.
